Simplistic Sophistication
by loveofwrittenword
Summary: {"Always remember," I whispered before I disappeared. The last thing I saw before darkness was his returned love, and Harry screaming my name.} Even after seven years in the Magical world and though all her knowledge, there are unknowns that surprise Hermione. All she can do is survive, continue to fight, continue to live. [Time-Turner; AU; Marauder-era].
1. Prelude

Disclaimer: Everything recognizable belongs to the wonderful and talented J.K. Rowling and associates (Warner Brothers, Scholastic Books, and anyone else in connection to Harry Potter Universe). I make no money from this story, just pure enjoyment. No Copy Right Infringement is meant.

Author's Notes: I want to welcome anyone reading this story. This idea has been with me for a while and something that has captured my fancy completely! This is a repost and edited. Hopefully better than before.

This first chapter is just the prelude – the background if you will. It lays the foundation for the story. Without further ado…

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 **Simplistic Sophistication**

 _Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication._ − _Leonardo da Vinci_

* * *

 **Prelude**

 _Courage is not the absence of fear, but simply moving on with dignity despite that fear. −_ Pat Riley

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December 1997 – Hermione's POV

The light of the moon shined through the clouds, giving light to us as we saw what remained of the explosion. The house stood as a frozen illustration to the atrocities that had taken place. The damage was irreconcilable as were the crimes which were committed on that cold night so very long ago. What used to be a two story cottage nestled in a thatch of woods, was now a broken down pile of shattered dreams. The second floor was all but demolished.

The left part of the roof seemed still intact, but the right side of the roof line was completely missing; the room open to the elements. I wondered how many snow storms and rain showers that opened room had seen and suffered.

It had once been a happy, peaceful place that a little child called his nursery, but now it resembled a demolished battle zone where happy dreams were ruined and bitterly taken away. Stinging tears traveled down my face, falling to the cold ground. I didn't even try to dry my face. My tears came from real pain, and it was an insult to try to hide the ache.

I felt a hand grab clasp mine, giving comfort, love, and empathy. Squeezing back, I tried giving back even more of those emotions. It had become customary for one of us to grasp the hand of the other when one was under duress. It was a sign of love and deep friendship.

A friendship forged through the adolescent and stressful years of Hogwarts. A deep and abiding friendship between a boy-who-lived named Harry and his know-it-all Hermione.

Seven years later and here we stood outside of Godric's Hallow; a place Harry wanted to visit more than any place we had already traveled. It was a place to him that represented so many different things and caused so many conflicting emotions within him. Above everything else, it was a place where he'd spent his last moments with his parents.

Snow crunched under our boots as we approached the wrought iron gate protecting the little broken cottage. Upon closer inspection, one was able to see that the elements had also affected it. The tarnish on the metal had built up over the years and destroyed something that had once probably been cared for. Reaching out with our entangled fingers, I touched the corroded gate. We both gasped in surprise as a sign rose from magic. Messages had been scrolled on the plaque which greeted visitors. Thankful notes for Harry and his family.

On it were words written about what had taken place at this very spot and the crimes against nature that had been committed. The house was left in status as a monument to the time and that fatal event. More tears fell from our eyes, our hands tightened on the other as we read heartfelt messages left behind.

That small boy-who-lived-turned-man who carried the fate of Wizarding Britain on his shoulders. At times he resented having to be that boy and carry that mantle. But he always rose to the challenge. Through his faults and inadequacies, he triumphed time and time again. I was privileged to stand by his side, hold his hand and be the strength he needed in the most tying of times.

"Alohomora," Harry spoke gently, pulling me from my musings. A loud creak and small bits of rust flew into the cold air as the iron gate opened. Taking a deep breath Harry started his journey home. We walked in sync through the opened gate, and with a flick of his wand it slowly closed again.

The path up to the house was an overgrown. We had to stop several times or face the prospect of falling over years of growth. We finally stopped at the entrance to the house, and I felt a shudder go through my body. It was as if I could feel the residue of dark magic that had been used long ago. Unexpectedly I was pulled into Harry's arms as he tucked his face into my long bushy hair he adored. I wrapped my arms around his neck, slowly caressed his neck and back.

"I know, Harry, love," I murmured to him, not in a placating voice, but one of understanding. "We can turn around and leave. I would never think less of you." He shook his head. My brave Harry.

His breath against the skin of my neck mingled with his fallen tears and sent a new wave of shivers over me. Slowly pulling away, he pushed his shoulders back and gathered up his tattered strength. Humbly, I willingly gave him all the courage I had left over. He moved the hair from about my neck and replaced it with his lips. It was a tender kiss on my pulse point that lasted for a mere second, but spoke of his thankfulness. He lifted his head again, and I looked up into his hurting jade-colored eyes.

"It's something I just have to do, love."

My hands surrounded his beautiful haunting face, lite stubble tickling my fingers. "I understand, Harry. We all have to conquer the ghosts of our past at some point." A half-smile lingered on his lips before he looked up at the foreboding cottage that had been in both his reality and night terrors. He again exhaled, trying to remove the fright from his body.

"I'll be in after you, love," I whispered to him in a comforting voice. "I know you want to go in alone, and I respect that choice, Harry. It's your past and your decision."

I wiped away at that last of his tears because I knew he wanted to enter the house with his head held high and his emotions in some kind of balance. I leaned into his strong, lean frame and tenderly placed my lips to his. They were cold from the winter but still soft. I put a little pressure behind the kiss and he returned it with his heart. We broke away after a few seconds of indulging ourselves for comfort. "For good luck, Harry." His responding rusty grin was wobbly, but there still.

My resilient best friend.

I took out my wand and placed a status charm to the structure, not completely trusting the old magic that held the place together. The strength of the magic whirled around us, causing snowflakes to dance on the night air. I felt a little light-headed after, having to quickly sit down. The spell wouldn't last forever, but it gave me peace of mind with Harry wanting to enter. I felt Harry's hand on my shoulder and knew he was worried about my weakness.

"I'm fine, love. Just more magic passed than I had anticipated. I'm not sure how long it will last, but it should cover you for an hour. Just be careful of other things like debris and pieces of ceiling littering the ground, yeah?"

He kissed my check before using my shoulder as leverage to stand. I placed my hand over his and gave it a little squeeze before he pulled it away. The sound of his footsteps faded the further he traveled into the first house he had once lived. I gave him ten minutes, in which I collected myself, to traverse into the house without my hovering.

Feeling better, I followed the steps of my best friend into the cottage. This was my chance to look over the wreckage in silence. Many phantom images passed over my vision. Stories of a boy and his parents.

I had been working on a project for Harry for several years. He had no knowledge of what I was doing. Originally I got the idea from Hagrid and the photo album he made for a boy who had never seen an image of his parents.

For one of his birthdays, I wanted to give a present he would simply adore. I had been collecting anything I could find of Harry's family, not only of his parents, but of his grandparents and other family members. I wanted to give him a piece of himself. Harry knew who he was as an individual, but not as a member of his collective family.

So after researching through old books, writing owls to people whom had known anyone from his family, scouring through old editions of the Daily Prophet and other publications of the Wizarding world, I had amassed quite a collection of stories, anecdotes, pictures, family trees, and letters written by the family members themselves. It was a project of both labor and love, but something that ended up meaning more to me than I could have ever imagined. I learned much about the Wizarding world though the project, and even more about the family of my best friend

I wasn't quite done with my side project, but when complete, I knew Harry would appreciate it, _cherish_ it.

.

The down stair rooms were eerily silent. I grasped the handle to the front door and slowly shut it. I didn't want anyone walking by and knowing there were actual people here. I looked around the door frame and noticed how many cobwebs had been spun, how much termite damage there was, how many nesting creatures had been here. Pulling out my wand, I started to clean some of the dirtiness. I wondered what Ron would have done if presented with some of these webs. My heart hurt more than I could bear with thinking of him.

Bending over, I started to work my way around the back of the door, the filthiness thick enough to choke a Thestral. My hand hit something hard and I let out a little yowl from the pain. I pushed past my annoyance and pain and stuck my hand in the mess, pulling out a stick. Spiders crawled up the peeling wallpaper to safety.

Wiping away the gossamer labyrinth from the wood I was able to make out what hurt me. Instinctively I knew who this belonged to, and in knowing, pain clenched at my heart. Gasping and clasping at my chest, I painfully fell to my knees. I was in shock from what I held. I couldn't understand how it was never recovered and placed to rest. It had been left behind with the crumbling cottage.

Thick, fat tears fell from my eyes in fast waves. I wiped the tears with my dirty hands, needing to get a better look. It didn't seem fair, yet here it was before my very eyes. I shakily reached my hand out and reverently touched the grimy wood. My heart broke at the state of it, but already knew these were wasted emotions that accomplished nothing.

Shuddering breaths left my achy chest. Flares of heat coursed through my fingers, lingering on my raw skin as I caressed the wand. Ignoring the wild flares tingling along my flesh, I put the forgotten piece of wood on my shirt and used it to clean away the years of muck caked on it. The state of it was unforgivable.

I wondered who had been so carless with something that had fought evil. I studied the now semi-clean wand and saw the beauty of it. Heat continued to travel through it and into my tingling skin. I wondered if the wand was thankful that someone had finally rescued it from its ensnared trap, giving it the attention it was due. Nonsensically I could imagine the wand missed the touch of smooth skin against it and that why it flared with heat.

Never had I heard of a wand doing such a thing, and thus scared me a bit.

I remembered Harry telling us about his wand acting of its own accord and I had chosen not to believe him. I was ashamed of my actions and my response to him. I thought about whose wand this could have been and remembered the story Harry told.

" _My mother was in the room with me, Hermione. She stood in front of me and risked her life so that I could live. She begged him and that Bastard just laughed at her like she was some silly girl. If I had never hated that monster before, that very moment cemented my hatred." He fiercely wiped the tear from his eyes and looked up._

" _Where was your father, love?" I spoke softly, knowing he wanted to tell me the story, needing it out in the open and out of his head. His sad eyes returned to me and I placed my hand in his. He entwined our fingers._

" _He was down stairs trying to keep Voldemort away from us. He told my mother to take me upstairs. He was dead before he even got a chance to defend himself."_

 _We both had cried after, holding onto each other for a long while._

I was holding James Potter's wand.

It was mahogany and eleven inches. I knew from a missive I had received from Ollivanderwhich described Harry's parents' wands. I knew he had originally told Harry (when they had first met) about his parents' wands, which was what gave me the idea to write to him.

I wanted to know the stories of how excited his parents were and how they showed that excitement. I wanted to know what emotions were displayed on their faces and how long it had taken for them to finally find their right match. These were stories that Harry should have gotten from his parents, but was robbed of that opportunity.

Ollivander said that James Potter's wand was a little different because it was carved with Celtic Knots which stood for eternity . . . _the eternity of life_ . . . _the eternity of love_ . . . and _the eternity of nature_. I found that information beyond amazing and so interesting.

The wand was even more beautiful than the concept. The knots wove together in long continuous strands and wound from the tip almost down to the handle. I was floored to have been holding something so special. I also knew this would be something that Harry would appreciate for life.

I was almost finished with his present, and I was going to give everything to him on his next birthday, including something that had quickly become the pièce de résistance. I gently touched along the grooves of the knots and cried at the thankfulness I could feel coming from the wand.

Hearing footsteps descending the steps, I quickly took out my shrunken rucksack. I wandlessly enlarged it before I stuck the wand gently into it and shrunk it back. I was planning on giving the wand to Harry, but I wanted it to be on his birthday and the surprise he loved the most. I stuck my bag back into my pocket as Harry turned the corner. I could see the lingering wetness in his eyes and on skin. I quickly stood up and made my way to him. He willingly came into my arms as I pulled him down. We stood there for a time before we heard the house shifting around us.

We both pulled away and I stroked the face of my beloved friend.

"Were you able to do what you needed, love?" He nodded his head, and pulled my hand into his.

Harry walked out of my arms and turned us toward the door. I knew this was his way of telling me he was ready. He opened the front door and looked around one last time before we both stepped out again. He shut the door lovingly, and fingered the knob with his free hand one last time.

"And thus closes another chapter in the Harry Potter Saga," he sadly jested, but I read between his meanings. He was finally letting go of something that never had any closure. He would always mourn his parents and their unfair ending, but in coming here he was able to listen to the ghosts of the past and return them to their rightful place.

He let go of the door handle, and with us both giving one last look to the house, we walked silently to the gate, opened it up, and closed it behind us as we walked on. The only things we could hear was the sound of our shoes as they hit the snow-covered path, the wind that blew past our ears and the creak of the gate as it closed once more and latched into place, barring the memories to follow.

.


	2. Interest at First Sight

**AN:** This may seem a little confusing and disjointed, but it supposed to be that way. This is officially the first chapter. Dive in and enjoy the first chapter of our tale.

* * *

 **Interest at First Sight**

 _We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken. –_ _Fydor Dostoevsky_

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October 1979 – Hermione's POV

A mirage of colors swirled around me, making the space look like a droopy watercolor painting. Breathing was all but impossible as my lungs were being squeezed like a toothpaste tube. Before I could even fathom where I was, the vortex decided to spit me out.

Landing hard on my backside, I felt the bile start to rise, burning both my larynx and stomach. I quickly turned to my side, and vomited. My eyes watered something terrible as I coughed around my convulsing throat, my skin breaking out in painful goosebumps.

Finally, with nothing left to upheave, I fell to my back and curled into myself away from my sick puddle. Every part of my body hurt, as if I had just been put through a meat grinder. I knew some of the pain had been residual from the battle I was just fighting, but the bigger part had been from being pulled, pushed, twisted and torn though some kind of swirling vortex.

After taking a minute to allow myself to settle, I started to take in my surroundings. My watery eyes hurt to even open, but I had to know where I was and what the hell had happened.

Fear started to cloud my judgment and all I could think about was the last thing I had seen: Harry's startled, sad green eyes looking into mine; his yells reverberating in my ears. I didn't want to leave him, but was violently ripped from his grasp as he tried to hold on.

Shaking from disturbing thoughts, I took in my situation, needing to practice constant vigilance. Thankfully I could feel my wand still clutched in my hand. Blinking owlish, I slowly sat up.

Nothing looked quite familiar, but I had a tingling sense of _**déjà vu**_. Shuddered ran the length of my flesh, but I pressed on. Tall trees surrounded me, fallen leaves cushioned me, solid earth was felt beneath my clutched hands. Nothing around me gave an indication as to where I may have landed.

Before I could think of getting up, the sound of crunching leaved permeated the ringing in my ears. Slow, steady footfalls came closer … too close for my comfort. I didn't have the time to even defend myself before I saw the blurry image of a tall man standing in front of me.

Blinking the tears from my eyes I looked up, squinting stupidly. I could feel my magic start to awaken inside me, as if perceiving a threat.

As clarity returned to my shocked system, reality started to settle.

I would recognize him anywhere.

Anywhere…

Before me was standing someone I had only seen in old pictures, someone who had only been made alive from stories woven through his friends' tales, someone dead for 17 years, someone who bore the most striking resemblance to my best friend.

"Harry," I brokenly mumbled. Searing pain erupted in my chest.

"Who?" he replied.

Staggering breathes left my chapped lips, but not enough oxygen was returning to my bruised lungs. Dark spots started to form before my eyes; and before I could pass out, I felt a soft hand pressed on the back of my head, guiding it between my bent knees.

"Breathe. Slowly… in and out." Soothing circles accompanied the soft commands being whispered in my ear. "That's it."

Thankfully my breathing started to even out, allowing me a small amount of relief. Sluggishly I turned my head to the right and caught the gaze of James Potter. In the actual flesh; as solid as the ground was beneath my aching backside.

Questioning hazel eyes stared hard into my own. So many emotions could be read within their depths. And though I didn't really know James Potter from Merlin, I felt as if I _knew_ him.

 _ **Déjà vu**_ _ **.**_

 _What the hell happened? Where the hell was I? How was James bloody Potter alive? What alternate reality had I fallen into?_

Gathering my tattered courage about me, I croaked out my first question, having a sneaking suspicion of where I was, "W-what's the date today?"

My question was met with confused, crinkled hazel eyes. A slight wrinkle creased his forehead, his unshaven jaw fell open and his right hand scratched the back of his already messy black hair. He looked so much like Harry that it hurt again to breathe.

After his mouth opened several more times with no words sounding, he spoke, "Err … October 8th, 1979. I think."

Assumptions confirmed, my head made its way again between my legs as I struggled to breathe.

 _Holy fecking Merlin_ , I had traveled into the past. I had traveled into the past and ran into Harry's father. I had traveled into the past and into Harry's father that was alive, breathing, confused and awkwardly stroking my back.

Unthinkingly I backed away, needing to get away from James Potter's touch, James Potter's likeness, James Potter's time warp.

Why was I here? How had this happened? Out of all the possible outcomes, and out of all the wizards and witches in the Wizarding world, how the hell had I ended up with James Potter?

"Please," he whispered, as if I was some frightened animal (which in all honesty I probably resembled), "Don't be frightened. I won't hurt you. But obviously you need help."

 _Understatement of the year._

Looking up, I stared into his hazel eyes. I found calmness, strength, worry, concern, and thinly veiled mistrust. I couldn't fault him on the last emotion.

My heart rate increased and my palms started to sweat. My breathing increased as I felt my chest rise heavily from the intake of air into my lungs. Tiny prickles of anxiety coursed through my body, and I felt like a heaving disaster. I brought my tongue out to lick at my dry lips. The saliva in my mouth increased and I was thankful for the relief it gave to my dehydrated throat.

Not knowing what else to do, but being cognizant still of my need for constant vigilance, I asked shakily, "Your name?"

His beautiful baritone voice uttered my new reality, "James."

That's all I was getting. I could see it in his eyes. But that was fine. I knew James's last name.

"May I ask how you procured my wand?" he inquired, trying to find any dishonesty in my answer or my body language. "I didn't hear you utter a spell or see you use your own."

Trying to think of a way out of this mess, and trying to think on my feet, I hastily answered, "I found it here when I fell."

I couldn't tell him the truth, ' _You see, I brought it with me from the future, where your unknown son and I were fighting the scourge of evil staining wizarding Britain_.'

I could tell he hadn't believed my sloppy answer, but granted me a reprieve. I couldn't understand his behaviour. From what I knew of 1979, the war was at an all-time high. Magical folks were distrustful even of family members, and Voldemort was all but at the height of his power. Simply put – Wizarding Britain was in deep.

And here was James Potter, giving me the benefit of the doubt and not cursing me into oblivion.

"May I have it back, please?"

Nodding my head, I cautiously outstretched my shaky hand, not wanting him to get spooked, and placed his wand into his _solidly_ warm hand.

I shivered from the contact and the utter insanity of the situation. My body hurt something awful from the violent movement, but it couldn't be helped. This was pure madness.

I needed a stiff drink, and the more I thought about it, the better that drink sounded. I was entitled to a little something which would sooth my nerves.

With several grunts and pain roaming freely around my body, I precariously got to my feet. In seeing my struggle, some mistrust left James' eyes and was replaced with concern.

"Here, allow me." Gently, he placed his hands beneath my elbows and helped me stand. Ferocious waves of pain, longing and confusion swirled within my abused body. Tears came once again to my eyes as goosebumps erupted once again on my bruised skin. I must have looked quite the fright. I knew blood lingered still on my person, bruises marked my skin, my cracked lip hurt something awful and I could still smell the smoke from dark curses and fiendfyre linger on my torn clothes.

"Thanks, James," I muttered softly, tasting his name on my lips, bringing life to my madness.

His eyes widened at the use of his name, but my shaking must have distracted him. Without asking, he removed his leather jacket and slowly (as if once again scared I might run away) placed it around my shoulders.

The smell of leather was wonderful on my flesh and feel of the heated jacket was a magic all its own.

Carefully, he waited for me to place my arms though the already warmed arm holes. His finger brushed over the skin exposed on my neck. I closed my eyes at the delicate feel of his finger gently adjusting his jacket. His touch made this all the more real. And no matter how much I tried to awaken myself, there was no escaping this time warp.

"Thanks," I said breathlessly, my cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

Looking down at me and being sure his help was sufficient, he serenely answered, "You're welcome."

Lastly he took the zipper of his jacket and closed it to the top of my neck, making sure it protected me from the crisp autumn elements. I wanted to tell him it was unnecessary, that I was grateful for his manners, but I didn't want to sound more stupid than I already had. His fingers left the collar of the jacket and fell back to his sides. His eyes pierced me again and I felt like I was drowning in his presence. My heart clenched at knowing what his outcome in life would be.

The lunacy of the situation hit me so fast and so suddenly, I hardly had time to even consider reining in my emotions. The tears that had sprung to my eyes earlier fell over my lashes, and I could see no end in sight. I bent over my knees and felt my head hit the ground that was littered with leaves and broken twigs. I finally allowed the suppressed emotions to flow through me, and they proceeded to rack my body. I felt my entire body shake from the immense pressure of my sobs. Too much was happening around me, and I couldn't understand how I ended up in this situation.

Everything around me was unfamiliar and unexplainable. I was never one for such change and I never really dealt well with sudden alteration in my life. I thrived on knowing my surroundings and being confident in the knowledge that I could think my way out of a situation. But now, as I bent over my knees, I felt lost and more alone than ever before. The very person in front of me was a walking and talking memory, a spirit from another time and in a place I didn't belong. Yet there he stood.

Flesh and marrow.

Again, he hesitantly placed his hand on my back. I could feel his apprehension in not knowing what was going on and how this hysterical person came to be in his presence. His trepidation was more than understandable, but all I could feel besides my anguish was guilt in making him feel so uneasy with me.

He ran his hand in circles on the middle of my back, and the sound of his jacket as his hand moved over the material, brought me out of my head. The heavy, agonizing sobs were now leaving me, and were replaced with small shudders. I heard myself hiccup from my lack of oxygen. I wiped the tear stains from my face, knowing it hardly made a difference.

I lifted my head from my temporary pillow and pushed my riotous curls from my face. I had often considered cutting my hair for the sake of practicality, but could never bring myself to do it. The war had taken many things from me, but I wouldn't allow it to take away something that had always defined me: my frizzy, disastrous hair. Harry had laughed at my quirkiness, but I knew he was internally pleased.

"" _Your hair is a mess, Hermione, but it brings comfort to my hectic world. Some things should never change," he whispered before running his hands through my uncontrollable locks. I could feel the stress fall from his shoulder as we both relaxed in each other's presence and from the other's touch._

It was a routine we had both adopted but could never remember from where. I would lay my head in his lap and he would tangle his fingers in my frizzy mane. We both needed the closeness to each other, and the calmness we brought to the other's life. The words he had spoken to me on that day always gave me comfort. They told me of his love and acceptance of who I was and asked me never to change, even though my know-it-all ways could get on his nerves.

"Are you feeling a little better?" James's voice interrupted my wandering thoughts. His tone was so soothing, ethereal almost. Another tear escaped down the well worn path on my cheek as I let his kindness surround me.

"Yes, t-thank you," I mumbled through parched lips. "Thanks for the comfort, even though you have no idea who I am or where I come from."

His face still showed his anxiety at my earlier break down, but it also didn't have the lines that were etched in his face from before. He removed his hand from my back and I missed the warmth and the surety pressure.

We both stood. I leaned on him a little, incredibly sore from both the battle at Hogwarts and my mental breakdown. Sweetly he helped me to wipe the dirt from his jacket and to pick the fallen leaves from my mad hair.

Once done, he stepped back and afforded me some space, but still close enough in case I fell again or needed his assistance. Crazy person I had become in the last hour.

"Where did you come from?" His eyebrows arched as his forehead wrinkled again.

I knew he deserved some type of answer, but again, I was torn on how much to reveal. His voice was calm, but I could also sense his almost pleading for me to tell him something. Looking into his eyes, so very different in color from his son's, I felt the need to confess something.

Needing to turn from his scrutinizing gaze, I took in my surroundings and wondered where I was. I knew I was in some kind of wooded place, but had no idea where the patch of trees lay.

"Where's here?" I rebutted and a small reluctant smile came to his lips. His bottom lip was heavier than his top, and was larger, plumper than a usual man's bottom lip.

"If I tell you what you want to know, you have to promise to tell me something in return," he said almost like a little boy who had finally learned to manipulate someone for something he wanted. I couldn't fight the wobbly half-smile that came to my mouth at the sound of his voice. It was emotion I welcomed warmly.

"That was very Slytherin of you," I said, trying to maintain my pitifully sad grin.

His face broke out into what I could only imagine was a marauder smile. This was the James Potter, I pictured from Hogwarts … before the war had tainted him; how everyone had described the larger than life James Potter.

"So you attended Hogwarts," he concluded. I wanted to slap myself because of my slip. He gave me a knowing look.

"It's a figure of speech," I prevaricated, thinking quickly on my feet.

Playful suspicion colored his gaze, but he let it drop. Instead he asked, "Do we have an agreement?" I bit my bottom lip out of habit and winced from the pain of my split lip. Thinking about the repercussions of my actions and knowing there was much to work out, I nodded.

"We have an agreement, but you have to understand there are things I may wish not to tell."

Nodding understandingly, he started to answer my question of 'where's here'.

"You're in Godric's Hollow." I felt the intake of breath rush to my lungs at his words. I was in the same place I had found his wand before coming here. He looked at me with concern again, but I just waved for him to continue.

"Um . . . these thick of trees we are sheltered in run the length of my property." I could feel my mind going in many different directions as I took in his words. "It's your turn to tell me something." I thought about what I wanted to say, but could really think of nothing. I needed more time to collect my thoughts.

But more importantly I had to get the _fuck_ away from Godric's Hallow. It brought up too many ghosts (one standing in front of me), and too much craziness for me to comprehend. Thoughts of James and Lily's gravestones, Nagini shredding itself from a dead woman's body, Voldemort almost capturing Harry and I played on a dangerous loop in my mind. I didn't need another breakdown.

"Is there a place we could go to get a drink?" I asked him, needing to get away, needing something strong to drink and needing a place to speak privately. Trees around Godric's Hallow had ears.

Not knowing the craziness roaming in my head, James playfully rolled his eyes at my lack of disclosure. I brokenly laughed at his response because it was too adorable and something unexpected.

"Sure, I know a pub where we could go to get a drink that would warm you up considerably." In that moment I didn't care about some drink that could make me warm, I needed out of this haunted village.

"Okay," I said, my voice quivering slightly. I wasn't sure why he didn't offer to go to his home, but I already knew I wasn't ready to walk into the scene that had robbed my best friend of his security and future, a place I had no reason being in.

He reached out, tenderly taking my hand in his.

His was soft.

Mine was bloodied, calloused, hard.

Unthinkingly I said, "You trust too easily, James." He needed to be more hardened. Especially in the situation we had found ourselves in.

"As do you, girl-on-my-property."

And with that he raised his wand … apparated us away.

The space around me became nonexistent.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

The air squeezed from my lungs.

But James' hand warm and solid in mine.

.

.

I felt my feet hit solid ground in an alleyway before stumbling. Once again strong arms caught me before I could fall over. He let go and stared down at me. I had to look up to see into his face. I only stood about five-foot-five, and he was nearing or over six feet. I felt dwarfed by his height, yet surprisingly secure.

Raising his wand, he muttered spells under his breath that I couldn't make out, but knew all too well. His eye color changed into a deep blue. His hair became blonde with curls and his nose elongated. It was a dramatic difference, but I could still see the subtle signs of him being the person I arrived with. "I like a little anonymity, and don't trust as easily as you believe."

I simply swallowed around the dryness in my throat. "May I? he asked, pointing politely to my hair and broken lip. Though I knew in my marrow this was James Potter, I felt a little apprehensive still. I was war-hardened. I couldn't trust easily. Yet I had allowed him to apparate me away.

"Do your worst."

A hurtful look stole over his face before he shook it off. I couldn't even begin to imagine what it was from, but I felt sorry having put it there.

Soft tingling magic begin to heal the cut in my lip, siphon the blood from my face and hair, and patch my torn clothes from battle. I was amazed at the intimacy of his magic and the beauty with which he cast spells and charms.

Feeling a little breathless, he asked, "Shall we?" while passing his hand in front of him, and ushering me to go before him.

Nodding haplessly, I passed in front of him and stepped onto the quiet, deserted streets of Hogsmeade.

.

.

The lanterns over the shops swung and squeaked as the wind swept through the small village. A few people walked on the side, but none of them paid any attention to us. The sun was low in the sky, and I could tell it was getting close to sunset. I followed as he turned left and slowly made his way to the Three Broom Sticks. He raised his now blonde head up to the sky and took in a deep breath. He reminded me of someone who had just been granted freedom, and the first thing he did was appreciate the sky and his ability to breath in fresh air.

"What's your name?" he whispered, still looking up to the sky.

"Hermione," I answered quietly, not really wanting to break his concentration.

He finally looked away from the sky and down to my face.

I could see him working my name in his mind. Perhaps trying to work out if he ever heard it or knew it from some reference in his life. I knew his actions were in vain. Hermione hadn't existed in his time. There should have been no connection, yet here I stood.

"Pretty," he mumbled. A slight wobbly smile graced his face before changing back again.

As we made our way to the front of the pub, I was overcome with bittersweet memories. I had missed Hogsmeade and the familiarity it brought to me. It took me back to a time where things were simpler, and death wasn't the main concern on my mind.

James' opening the pub door pulled me from long-lived memories.

I all but stepped into my past reality.

James pointed me to the crooked wooden stairs that led up to the private rooms the pub offered and asked me to stay put. I waited a few minutes before he returned with something clutched in his hand.

"I can see you're tired. Come along, Hermione," he gently commanded me as he stuck out his hand to usher me forward.

I looked at him, flabbergasted as to what was going on or where he could be taking me.

"Where to?" I asked cautiously. It wasn't that I didn't trust him; I had just learned constant vigilance and the war only made it worse. It was difficult to try and act another way.

"Trust me, Hermione…" he spoke in a gentle voice. I sought out his eyes and allowed myself the small luxury of just letting go a little.

 _Just a little_.

"Okay." I heard the word fall from my lips without even realizing I was speaking.

I felt my feet climb the rickety stairs, following him further into the pub. We walked along a low, dim hallway that was only lit by the candles that were in holders which were fastened to the walls. The door we stopped in front of had the number eleven painted on it and the edges of the ones were peeling from being so old. I looked up to my companion and he gave me a gentle smile which made him look so much like Harry, yet entirely his own person. He had already taken off the glamour without me noticing. I must have retreated further into my mind than I realized.

"I got you a room for the night. Madam Rosemerta had this one available. It's not the nicest but it has a front room and an en suite. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you look a fright, darling, and you wouldn't be neglectful in taking a shower." His gentle smile turned into a smirk, and I felt myself give a cracked laugh. It sounded too wooden to my ears.

"Thanks, James. I really needed that honesty and that laughter."

I glanced at his so familiar face, and felt my heart clinch for Harry, but I also felt comforted in having someone that reminded me of my best friend. I already missed my beloved best friend; I hoped with all that was in me he was fine, and nothing tragic had happened to him.

Opening the door, I followed him in and looked around the worn but comfortable space. I turned back to him and saw he was also taking in the surroundings. I wondered if James was trying to make sure if everything was safe.

After assessing our surrounding, he took a seat on the sofa. "I ordered some tea and food to be delivered up here. I hope that's okay?"

I nodded, overcome by his kindness.

"The loo should be through there." He pointed to the opening of the bedroom, trying politely to usher me to get myself moving. I must have smelled something terrible.

"Wait for me here, yeah?" I asked stupidly.

"Sure, Hermione. Take your time." He gave me a sad little smile after taking in my appearance.

I knew it was utter insanity to be here, in this place and in this room with James Potter, and trusting him as I was, but there was something elemental about him, something familiar and comforting in his being here.

I didn't have answers to many questions, and I knew this situation was just too surreal, but I had to grab at something a little familiar around me. It was the only reason I retained even a modicum of sanity.

After giving him a little, fleeing grin, I left and locked myself in the bathroom.

.

.

I turned on the water to as hot as I could stand. After I took off my bloodstained clothes, I stepped into the shower and watched as the water turned the lightest shade of pink. My stomach rolled at the sight, and I felt my tears mix with the droplets that hit my face. I thought of my Harry, and how much I needed his comfort now. I could only hope he was fine and knew of my love for him. I also thought of James and what I was going to tell him once I was done.

One thing was certain: my life had gone from tragedy and death to something I would never be able to describe or fathom.

When I finished washing the blood and earth from my body, I turned off the water and reached for the rough towel the room provided. My tears had already stopped, but as I cleared the steam from the mirror I could tell I had been crying, my lips still trembled.

I wiped the water droplets from my body and reached for my shrunken down rucksack. After resizing it I pulled out a pair of fluffy pajamas and my hair brush. I was grateful that I had my rucksack before I was unexpectedly pulled away into another time. I quickly dressed myself before tackling the mop on my head that passed for hair.

After fifteen minutes of wrestling with my tangles (a dull throb now in the back of my head from the fight it put up,) I repacked everything, binned my dirty, torn clothes and made my way to the closed door. Harry and I had learned to always carry our bags with us. One never knew what would happen in the next second. I took one deep breath to fortify my courage and opened the locked door. The steam pervaded me as I left the bathroom and made my way back to the front room.

Harry's dad sat in the same spot, deep in thought. When he noticed me standing there, shyly, a small welcoming smile came to his lips.

"This couch is very uncomfortable." I stared at him and tried to figure out what he wanted me to do with this information. "I just thought you'd like to know."

"Thanks for the warning, James."

I gave him a grateful smile for breaking my shyness, and he softly guffawed at my antics. It made me feel a tad bit lighter than before.

I nonverbally put a cushioning spell on the couch before I sat down and faced my companion. He handed me a small cup of tea, with a sandwich placed next to it.

"I don't know how you take your tea."

I smiled wobbly. "This is more than good enough, James. Thank you."

"So now that you are clean and your hair is no longer growing its own hair," I softly giggled at his tease and again felt myself relax into the couch and in his presence a little more, "would you like to tell me about yourself?"

I gave my companion a serious face and waited for his to reflect mine. I strangely reached for his hand that was resting on the couch beside him and lightly squeezed it. I wasn't sure why the words left my mouth but I felt an aching need to say them, to give him some kind of thanks for his patience, kindness and not hexing me at first sight.

"Please never change, James. You are a breath of clean air in an otherwise polluted world." He gave me a heartbreaking smile that almost melted me.

"Thanks," he whispered and squeezed my hand in return. I had only met him a few hours ago, but I felt comfortable with him and his resemblance to my Harry was beyond comforting.

Harry and I were in each other's souls but it had taken the incident of a troll to even bring us around to being friends. James had a natural charm that just pulled a person to him, and made them feel safe. I reveled in that feeling and let it overtake me.

It had been a while since I had felt safe. I wanted to pour out my problems and my trials to James. I wanted him to take my troubles and make them better. I was beyond confused by these thoughts, but resigned them to the back of my mind. Now wasn't the time to dwell on such matters.

Letting his hand drop, I pulled my knees to my chest and took a drink of the healing tea. I faced James. I was beyond tired and worn, I felt beyond stretched and empty. I had nothing left to give and my heart ached something heavy.

With the little I had left inside me to give, and not understand why I even did it, I started to talk. Letting go just a little, I gave to James … just a little.

"Let me take you back, James. Allow me to tell you how I ended up at your feet," I spoke and with those words I wove for him the happenings of my life right before I had met him.

 _Just a little_.

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AN: Thanks to those who reviewed. This chapter is dedicated to you: moonlitsnowfox, roon0, tayaboo72.

Also thanks to those who favored or followed this story.

Let me know your thoughts, if you like.

Hugs.


	3. Say I Love You

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* * *

 **Say I Love You**

 _People so seldom say I love you and then it's either too late or love goes. So when I tell you I love you, it doesn't mean I know you'll never go, only that I wish you didn't have to. - Anonymous_

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1 May 1998

Hermione's POV from the Past

The smell of burnt flesh filled my nose, seemingly coating every inch of me. I had witnessed a lot of gruesome things in this war, however; watching someone burn to death was beyond repulsive. Their skin peeled from bone as the screams of complete and utter agony bombarded my ears.

I tried to rid myself of these thoughts as we flew out of the Room of Requirement and into the hall on the seventh floor. We landed in a heap and quickly disentangled ourselves from the others. It didn't matter how out of breath both Harry and I were, or how scarred I felt, we had to untangle from Malfoy and Goyle. There desolation seemed to seep heavily inside me, and I had enough luggage to carry about.

Quickly I turned from Malfoy and Goyle who were slumped on the floor and coughing from the smoke inhalation. I never wanted to see another person burned to death. Fiendfyre was known to be almost impossible to control (unless cast by a powerful witch or wizard) and Crabbe not being able to contain the spell he had unleashed, was proof positive of that.

When Malfoy and Goyle stopped coughing, they became shrouded in a numb silence. They had watched one of their mates being swallowed whole by the vindictive fire.

I tried not to look at Malfoy because he reminded me of his father. I remembered still the acts he had committed against me, and I was sure the memory of them would not leave me for a while. I glanced over at Harry and he gave me a look that said he knew what I was thinking. Harry carried his own demons and took the blame of Lucius Malfoy attacking me. I mourned that decision and pain it brought to my Harry, but those were thoughts for another day.

Loud bangs pulled me from my thoughts and rightfully returned me to the present. Still struggling from the smell of charred skin that clogged my nostril, I felt Harry grab my hand and position himself in front of me as we ran down the hall to see what was happening … thankfully leaving Malfoy and Goyle behind.

Coloured lights flew in all directions as Death Eaters fought Fred and Percy. The Weasley boys seemed to be holding their own, with Fred even laughing. I wondered what had caused the smile on his face while Fred battled for his life. But that was typical of the Weasley twins: in the face of adversity they fought yet enjoyed life, making sure that laughter was always provided and mayhem taken full advantage of.

Quickly I brought my wand up, ready to join the fight, but was stopped. Something caused me to look up in that moment. My heart stopped and my breathing became ragged as I seemed to watch in slow motion as a rouge curse flew over Fred's shoulder and hit the wall behind him. A great rumbling filled my ears as a trace of fear passed over Fred's face before it disappeared.

An easy smile graced his lips as an accepting realization came into his bright blue eyes; the wall gave way and started to crumble. Harry and I were thrown back from the force of the crash; and before everything momentarily went black I wondered if I had really heard Fred whisper, " _I love you, George."_ before he faced his fate with an uncomplicated smile plastered on his handsome face.

 _As if he knew his life was meant to be short._

 _As if he knew he wasn't meant to survive this war._

 _As if he knew that smile was meant to be his last._

.

.

Confusion was a bitter friend as I came to and tried to stop the spinning in my head. Everything was jumbled and didn't make sense. Then, as if my mind had decided that reality was a better fit, the agonizing memories snapped back like a sharp rubber band, flooding my mind.

Flashes of Fred's death passed through me. It _had_ to be a made up memory, I rationalized. Fred had to be well and smiling. I'd _seen_ him _smiling_. Tangling my fingers in my mussed hair, I pulled hard and tried to take away the lies that were seared into my present memory.

I heard movement beside me, but chose to ignore it. If I closed my eyes hard enough and fell asleep all of this would be a horrid, horrid dream that Harry would wake me from in the safety of our tent.

I felt something wrap around me and something in me snapped. Immediately I started to fight the restraint, needing to get free from this utter madness. All of this was a terrible mistake that needed fixing. If I could simply get lose then all would be fine with the swish and flick of my wand. I had to _believe_ that for my sanity.

As quickly as it started the fight went out of me. Harry's haunting yet beautifully familiar visage filled my vision. Tears shone in his eyes; his arms around me were like a comforting blanket on my overly-stretched reality. I wondered why his hold was so tight and followed his line of sight; reality became glaringly, _achingly_ obvious.

Finally, my unfallen tears fell like rain from heavy-filled clouds as I saw Percy slumped over Fred's fallen body, convulsing with agony.

"No," I heard myself involuntarily yell. Shaking my head in confused denial. I didn't ( _couldn't_ ) understand why fate had felt the need to punish me with such untrue imagines. I couldn't understand what major sin I had committed that led to what I was staring at in front of me.

Harry's arms around me was the only reality I seemed to process.

"Fred," I mumbled around the terrible lump clogging my throat. I wiped the grime that burned my eyes with the back of my blood-stained hand. I was hallucinating from the constant strain my mind had been under. But no matter how many times I tried to spin the picture in front of me, it came out the same: Fred was gone, and Percy was mourning his brother.

Restlessly I began to fight the hold Harry had on me. It wasn't that I didn't want his comfort; I needed to help Fred. I needed him to be alive and playing an exceedingly cruel trick on us. I would forgive him anything if he woke up. Harry tightened his hold on me, and I didn't understand why he wouldn't release me. I continued to fight him as his saddened and panic-filled voice reached my ears.

"Hermione, please stay with me. I've already lost Ron; don't make me lose you too. I need you, love," Harry screamed over the sound Percy's wails as he strengthened his hold about my waist.

I could feel the strain on my throat as I continued to scream for help, scream for anyone who could bring him back. The Weasley's had already lost Ron. Molly had trembled at the news of her baby boy's death and in her anguish collapsed to the ground and started to tremble with the great sobs that stole over her body. I could still hear her screams of, " _Not my baby! Take me and not my baby_."

And here was another one of her fallen sons. I wanted to save him. I wanted to spare the Weasley's another heartbreaking loss. Percy's cries for his brother rent the air and washed over my demoralized face before disappearing with the other screams I heard throughout the battle.

But there was nothing I could do.

Fred was gone.

The tears that stained my face blended with the dirt and blood that were smeared on my cheeks. My hair was beyond repair and my skin bruised and scratched. But none of that mattered, he was truly gone and the fight I had felt in trying to save him left.

I wanted to mourn the loss of my friend, _my innocent first kiss_. I wanted to crawl over to his empty body and cradle him in my warm arms. I wanted to breathe into his mouth and give him the substance that was needed to sustain life, but it would be in vain. A body couldn't live without a spirit, and I knew Fred's was already gone.

Before I could make my way to Fred, loud voices filled the destroyed hall around us. Death Eaters had returned and were gearing up for another fight. I now had another purpose: I would fight for the fallen.

Harry had already let go of me and was throwing curses at those bastards. I looked down and noticed that my wand was missing. I immediately started to search around the debris littering the floor. My rucksack had also become dislodged from my trousers pocket during the explosion.

My hand seemed to magically connect with my wand without even having to really look. I began to gather the things that had fallen from my bag, and when everything else was finally gathered I crazily began to search my bag for an important item. It had come to mean a lot to me in a short time. James's wand was nowhere to be seen.

The more I searched my bag the more crazed I became. I _had_ to find that wand. My mind seemed singularly focus. Harry deserved to hold that wand. He deserved to behold the wand his father fought with.

I needed that wand.

"Hermione," I heard shouted.

Shaking my head, I looked to my right. "Hermione, forget about the shit in your bag and protect yourself. I can't concentrate if I know you aren't being protected," he screamed at me above the flying hexes and falling bits of wall.

The air was filled with dust and residue from the debris, making it difficult to see. Everything seemed to close in around us; the thickness of the moment saturated my body, making it difficult to breath. I wanted to tell him not to worry and protect himself, but that would be like telling Harry not to feel guilty. I knew he wanted me to protect myself, but there was something in my rucksack that wasn't replaceable.

"It's important, Harry. It's important!" I screamed almost hysterically. "There's something I need to find!" I yelled back to him in alarm.

Turning to find him, I saw he was too busy trying to dodge a stunning spell that he didn't see the Death Eater hit him with another curse. Falling to the ground, Harry landed with a sharp thud. It was enough to pull me from my obsessive craziness.

Nothing, _nothing_ , _**nothing**_ was more important than Harry's life. I pushed my body over to his and felt my hands rip open from the rocks that embedded into them.

"Harry," I shrieked over the confusion. I reached him and started to shake his body. He lay still, and I felt my heart full-out stop momentarily.

I pulled out my wand and shot the first curse I could think of at the offending Death Eater. His screeches reached my ear as my Reducto hit his leg and shattered his bones, muscles and skin. The wall was splattered with his innards, but I felt vindicated in my retaliation. He had hurt Harry and deserved his punishment. He could have also been the one to have killed Fred, and I felt twice as justified. There were always consequences for one's actions.

"Harry," I shouted again … yet he didn't respond. I pointed my wand at his chest and whispered an Ennervate and watched as his chest rose with a deep breath. His eyes flickered open, the brilliant green was clouded with confusion.

He tried to sit up, but I pushed him back down. The chaos that surrounded us cleared, and the only remaining fight besides ours had been Percy and another Death Eater. I could no longer hear their battle and his screams of revenge for his brother. I touched all over Harry's face to make sure he was really okay, and I hadn't missed anything serious.

Gently, he pushed my hands from his cheeks as a wobbly smile titled the corners of his mouth. "Why are you smiling, Harry, it's so inappropriate." I tried not to sound harsh, but watching him fall on top of watching Fred died was too much. More tears fell. Harry sat up and took me into the safety of his arms. He shushed my anxiety as he smoothed my wild hair.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't realize." It wasn't his fault. There were so many emotions that were flying everywhere and every spell under the moon being cast that it was amazing we even knew what to think at all.

"Its fine, I just overreacted for a moment." I removed my face from the shelter of Harry's neck and saw the fallen body of Fred lying there exposed to the elements. I knew that Percy had been weeping over his brother's smiling face earlier, but the need for revenge was too great for him.

Harry and I had our war to finish, but I couldn't leave Fred there. I hadn't been able to save him, but I wanted to do something with his cold body. I disentangled myself from Harry, gathered the rest of my things that had gotten dislodged and put them back into my rucksack and stored it in my pocket.

Walking over to Fred, I bent over and put my fingers on his semi-cold eyelids. They reluctantly slid down over the now dull blue eyes that had once held bright laughter. I put my warm lips to his faintly smiling ones. I wanted so much for my body to warm his and bring him back from where he had gone, but it was to no avail.

"I'm sorry, Fred. I lost Ron, and now you. I hope your family can one day forgive me." I knew my guilt was an extension of Ron, but it couldn't have been helped. My emotions were too capricious to control completely. Harry's hands squeezed my shoulders; I looked at Fred once more before I stood with the assistance of Harry. I grabbed Fred's left side, and Harry, without having to be told what I wanted, grabbed the other as we silently took him to an alcove that was both secluded and protected from the battle.

We gently set him back down and adjusted him against the wall. He looked as if he had fallen asleep and forgotten about a class he was late for. I pulled my wand from my pocket and transfigured a large rock that had fallen into a soft blanket. I picked it up and lovingly placed it over Fred. It was the only warmth I could give him.

"I love you, Fred. You know that, right?"

 _Silence_.

"Tell Ron that I say hello and I miss him. I'm sorry for not helping him, and I feel his loss always. Could you do that for me, love?" was all my broken voice was able to get out.

 _Silence on his smiling face_.

Slowing I stood, and Harry grasping my hand. We turned away.

"Always, Fred," I softly repeated

We left the fallen twin in the darkness that was his solitude.

.

.

It was with heavy hearts and downtrodden shoulders that we made our way through the destroyed halls which were once been filled with laughter, gossip and secret dalliances in broom closets.

The time to finish Voldemort was approaching. After witnessing Fred fall we were all the more aware of our mortality and the fragility of the human body. We could also fall at any time, but we faced those challenges together, each drawing comfort from the other. I could never imagine Harry not laughing, talking, or even playing the hero on this earth. I couldn't imagine my Harry cold, silent, unmoving, _gone_.

I made a promise to myself that if I had the opportunity I would save him. I knew he would mourn my loss and feel guilty. But I had the hope and gentle peace of mind that he would get over me and finally have the life he was always denied: one of quiet happiness and peace, one filled with love and laughter, with little green-eyed children with black messy hair, one filled with the knowledge that his Hermione had loved him beyond anything and would always be with him watching from afar. It was a sacrifice that was easy to make in comparison to the knowledge that Harry no longer existed on this earth.

It was a promise that I would seal willingly with my life. It didn't matter what we had seen in Snape's memory. I didn't care if they considered Harry a Horcrux. I wouldn't allow him to be sacrificed. There were many ways to translate a prophecy, and I had chosen my way.

Before we turned a ruined corner, I saw movement.

A death eater had come from his hiding spot and was running towards us. A demented smile twisted his gruesome face. _Damn Rookwood_. I instinctively knew that he had been the one to shoot the curse which had led to Fred's death. His laughing face filled my vision before he ran off and the wall crumbled. Dark, coursing anger and pain fill my soul. The kind of anger that called for blood and revenge.

He lifted his wand at me, but before a curse could fly from his lips, Harry had pushed me to the ground and covered my body with his. I knew he wanted to protect me from the person who wanted to end me, but that just wasn't possible.

Harry's impact when his body landed on mine caused my head to hit a rather large rock. I felt my forehead cut open as the blood that oozed from my cracked skin ran into my eyes. It mixed with the dirt and dust that covered my face and caused my eyes to burn.

I could hear the hexes that Harry was casting at Rockwood, and prayed that he would be fine until I could get my bearings again. My hands felt along the floor to my sides and searched for anything that could help stem the blood flow. Reaching into my pockets, I pulled out my bag and blindly began to search in its depths.

My fingers came into contact with something hard. I pulled it out and felt warmth swamp my hand. Franticly I felt the craved knots along the wood … James' wand.

The wand had felt right in my hand as if it had missed me. I knew these thoughts were ludicrous, but there they were in the recesses of my mind.

Unthinkingly, I cast a quick healing charm and Trego, sloppily siphoning the blood away from my eyes and face.

Able to see again, I looked around and first noticed my wand next to me. I exhaled thankful as I picked it up and began to search for Harry. Fear rushed heavily at me, striking my heart with ice and robbing me of breath. Harry was lying flat on his back, and somehow his wand lay forgotten ten feet to his right. Rookwood was laughing at Harry's predicament and I was all but forgotten.

I had failed Harry once again, but I also had an advantage. Rookwood paid no attention to me. His back was facing towards me and he had his wand pointed at Harry's chest. I didn't know how close he was to uttering a spell but I didn't care. All I needed to do was distract him and protect Harry.

I slowly got up, trying not to make any noise. When I had my balance I started to charge at the death eater as he had done to us. My body crashed into his as he turned to see what caused the commotion. I heard Harry scream my name as Rookwood fell to the ground and I ran to Harry and covered him with my body. I couldn't allow him to become hurt.

He wasn't expendable in this war, but I was. Harry's fate had been sealed long ago when Snape heard that prophecy and relayed it to his master. Instead of letting it go unfulfilled, Voldemort had chosen to act on the little piece of information he had and sealed his fate along with a little half-blood with brilliant green eyes. I wished with everything in me that I could have taken that burden from him, but it was all for naught. Harry now had to live out his destiny, and I had to protect him. There was simply no other way.

Harry started to scream again and I knew that the death eater had gotten up and was approaching us. With another look into my best friend's eyes, I turned around and sealed my own fate. I wanted nothing but his safety.

I flipped around and faced Rookwood. His face was distorted with evil and malice.

It was time to end this bastard's miserable existence.

With my heart full of protective love for my Harry and vengeance for all those who had lost to Rookwood, I raised both of the wands in my hand and felt a cruel smile appear on my lips. I cried out Expluso and twin lights of yellow flew from the wands, striking Rookwood in the center of his chest. I closed my eyes, knowing his fate before the curses even hit him.

When I believed it to be over I opened my eyes and screamed from shock.

Not horror.

Twin lights of scarlet and gold shot out from the wands still clutched in my hand and bathed the hall in their brilliant luminosity. The light from the beams was so bright it almost seemed to blind me, but I couldn't take my eyes from the radiance. The lights appeared to have a life of their own and filled my soul with a peace and heat that had escaped me for a while. The lights danced around each other until they intertwined and the gold and scarlet became one. The illumination exploded and rained down, encircling me in their animation.

I turned to my beloved friend to see if he had experienced the same thing I had. His eyes were wide in consternation.

He tried to reach for me but couldn't get beyond the solid light that encased me. The calmness left me as I began to witness his anguish at not being able to reach me.

I started to fight the light, wanting to get to Harry and calm his fears. He had already lost Ron, and this unknown light caused him nothing but fear. I could still a semblance peace from the light, but my panic overrode that emotion as I pounded on the glowing enclosure that was almost like a force field.

The heat within me became almost unbearable as my dismay grew. We both fought, but it was for naught. No matter how much we worked against it, the illumination was unyielding.

The light started to change shapes as it covered every portion of my body and infused into my skin, sinking into my every pore. The process didn't hurt, but almost seemed to phantom-heal my body as the warmth disappeared into my skin.

I turned my eyes from my flesh and looked at Harry. His eyes showed the very things I was feeling in my heart. Heartbreak and a bleak reality darkened his gaze. We came to the same conclusion together: this was goodbye.

Nothing made sense, and I was scared as hell, but it was a reality I knew deep in my bruised and battered bones.

Salty water filled my eyes and dropped onto my warmed cheeks. I angrily swiped it from my skin with the back of my hand that still clutched the wands I couldn't drop, not wanting Harry to remember his Hermione as weak.

I could feel the light that disappeared into my skin start to scorch me. Time was running out.

I wanted to grasp onto Harry and never let him from my sight. I didn't know what was happening to me. My future was in the unknown. My outstretched hand finally found its phantom destination. My fingers grazed around the skin on Harry's cheek, the shield acting as a barrier from my actually touching him.

His eyes blazed into my own and I memorized his emerald green; it had always been unique. I leaned in, wanting to feel my glistening lips on his bloody ones. My lips trembled with grief as I kissed my most beloved friend, but actually not feeling anything because of this fucking light-shield surrounding me. It was as if I was kissing an apparition. Pulling back, I raised my hand shakily, and traced his outline. His jade green eyes filled with tears, and as I felt myself being taken from him to somewhere unknown, his tears finally slipped over his bottom lashes.

My green-eyed Harry looked broken, devastated, lost.

And then our time ran out.

The light imploded around me, inside me. Blasting me into the future like a supernova in a forming universe.

"I love you forever, Harry!" I screeched, needing him and wanting him to hear me as everything became a blur. "More than myself! Always remember!"

The last thing I saw before blinding light was his returned love, and him screaming my name.

.

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Time, destiny, fate, God, Merlin, magic, providence … whatever this thing was spit me out.

My life was forever changed.

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October 1979

the Present

"I left him, James," I lamented over and over again as I told him a small part of my past. I stood from the couch. The memories had caused the anguish to come flooding back to me in an intense and unbreakable wave. "I didn't mean to leave him, but I did."

I completely shattered as I thought of Harry and the pain that was manifested on his face. The tears didn't even give warning as they filled my eyes and fell without abandon. My skin quickly became saturated. My body fell with the pain as it soaked into my being and rendered me useless. Someone's arms caught me, and for a moment I fooled myself into thinking it was Harry; nothing was amiss, the war had been won and we were together.

But even I wasn't that naïve, no matter how much my whirling mind tried to protect me from the truth. His hands grabbed me from underneath my arms, and the pain shocked me into the present again.

I wanted to be with my Harry. I wanted to know that he was okay, and that my disappearance hadn't lost him the war or, even worse, his life. A world where Harry didn't exist caused my mind true, crippling pain, and was something that was beyond my contemplation.

I never thought myself co-dependent on anyone. But Merlin, time proved me wrong. I needed Harry, and he needed me. If that made us weak, then who cared.

James's hands moved to my lower back and pushed me closer to his body. His heat inundated my body through our clothes and caused me to shudder. He tightened his arms around me. It brought me some comfort, but not the one that I wanted at the time.

Useless, pathetic, ugly sobs racked my body with grief and separation. I could never understand how Ron had left Harry' side in that tent, this pain was beyond description, and it felt like I was being punished with an unspeakable form of pain for some unknown crime I had committed.

My throat constricted with each sob. The dryness ripped into the sensitive cords of my neck with each gasp that passed through. I wept Harry's name with each gasp and wondered if James could understand my unintelligible garble. I felt my hands reach to my hair of their own accord and pull at the locks that my friend had loved so much.

I felt that total and utter madness was trapped in my body and no matter how much I convulsed and pulled at my hair it wouldn't dissipate. Would insanity soon overcome me and release me from the bedlam that ruled my body?

With each tremble my limbs suffered, I could feel a restraint on them. The more I pushed the harder the confinement encased me. I didn't understand why it wouldn't allow me to rid myself of such madness. If I pulled and scratched my skin, it would allow for a release from the lunacy. It would seep from my skin, and then maybe I would be able to find a quietness.

But all of the fighting and struggling were to no avail; my body soon began to tire from weakness of its restraint. My arms and my legs felt as if they were made of lead and became too heavy for me to lift or even move. I started to droop in his hold. James grabbed me from under my legs and lifted me into his hold that had been my manacles. I became limp and allowed him to take over my sore mass.

"I hurt, James," the truth escaped from my lips in a broken whimper. It wasn't only my body that hurt, but also my soul. I felt as if it had been torn when I was taken from Harry. My heart ached as if something vital was missing. I had a prosaic mind that was well organized, so I knew that my thoughts weren't made up. Something had happened to me, and no matter how many times I played it over again, it alluded me.

"I have you, Hermione," he murmured reassuringly into my left ear.

My body was placed onto something soft and it enveloped me as James's arms no longer comforted me. I shivered at the loss, and wondered how I would manage on my own. A depression was made beside me and I felt myself roll a little into the dip. His heat seeped into my tired body again as he pulled my body onto his. It caused my eyelids to fall because of the contentment I started to feel. My body had experienced a range of emotions that finally caused me to fall into an apathetic state of ease, almost as if I were numb.

I was done. Completely and utterly tapped out.

He moved my tangled hair from my face and the gentleness of his action caused me to shiver from how it felt against my scratched skin. His fingers ran the length of my face and along my neck. I knew his touches were of sympathy and commiseration, but no matter his reasons they caused me the quietness my spirit had longed for.

"Sorry. Falling apart. Don't think ill of me," I pleaded.

I opened my eyes momentarily to look up at the person who looked so much like my Harry, but yet so different. James brushed his fingers over my eyes, and caused them to close again.

"You're fine, Hermione; we all have to lose ourselves sometimes in order to retain our sanity. If we never allow ourselves an outlet it builds, and becomes released in a channel of its own making. It just was your time."

I exhaled shakily, moving closer into the rest of his arms. I didn't know James from Merlin, and this situation was beyond insane, but he was what I needed _right_ now. I willingly took the stability he gave.

It was finally with an aching heart, but an ameliorated soul that I finally allowed myself to become lost in the darkness of the abyss. I remembered no more.

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James's POV

"Stay," she mumbled in her sleep.

So, I stayed.

.

 _Well_ … my day had turned out differently than expected.

I had watched and heard the story of a shattered girl that had broken my heart and touched my very soul. One couldn't hear such a story and fail to be touched.

My own tears had fallen as she spoke of her love for her friend and the immense connection they shared with one another. Her heartbreak was palpable in the air, causing me to feel as if I were there with her. Every breath she breathed reeked with her defeat and damaged past. Her love for this Harry seemed to be something not of this world and so very far from ordinary.

I didn't know Hermione or the rest of the stories of her life, but I was literally able to feel her pain and for some reason that wasn't fathomable to me and escaped my every rational thought. Her small body aligned with my own as she positioned her head onto my chest before she had fallen into the abyss.

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The night ticked by with broken sleep and shaky awakenings.

.

Every now and then she would whimper her sorrow before settling in again and falling back to sleep.

When I had gone to Godric's Hollow for some peace, I never thought I would meet someone who would reach out to me for comfort, and whom I in turn would want to help. Her pain seemed to shine through her eyes and call out to me. My thoughts were jumbled and strange. I knew they made no sense and were mad.

My hand that was closest to her face reached out and tenderly brushed the curled lock that fell into her eyes from her face. I stared at her tear-stained face, so broken but _lovely_.

"Sleep, sad girl. Things will be better in the morning." It was a truth I was intimately familiar with. "I'll help you, yeah," I promised.

And, I would. Whatever this fractured girl needed, I would help. I never wanted to see her like that emotional broken girl again.

With these thoughts and no regard for anything else except the sleeping girl in my arms, my eyes started to close from tiredness and all the strain of the night.

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* * *

AN: This was sad, yeah(?), but I still loved writing it. Hoped, you liked. Please if you have a moment, leave me a little review. I would love to know your thoughts on this chapter: the goodbye scene between Harry and Hermione, the dynamic between James and Hermione.

Thanks: Adhara Cassiopea Black, Alessandra.12, , MoonlitSnowFox, NatalieLynn, Guest, megforrrrrrd, simbacurls, KateKat1992.

 _Originally Posted: 24 January 2011_


	4. Truth Never Simple

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* * *

 **Truth Never Simple**

 _The truth is rarely pure and never simple._

– _Oscar Wilde_

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October 1979 – Hermione's POV

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My cheeks heated up with embarrassment each time I thought of James.

Mortification hadn't even begun to express my feelings on the matter. Not only had I made a complete fool of myself, but I had broken down so irrevocably.

Granted my entire world had changed beyond my comprehension, but that didn't excuse my unconstrained emotions. My only consolation was waking up and finding James Potter gone.

No immediate shame to bury, no pretending.

I had woken up groggily, my eyes all but swollen shut. My throat was parched, scratchy. My hair beyond repair with cuts and scrapes marking my body. In plain English: I looked like utter shit.

Sadly, I had cried something terrible that morning, thinking of Harry, my new situation, my options and the loss of everything I knew.

Pitifully I pulled myself together, and stopped feeling sorry for my pathetic situation. Tears weren't going to fix anything, and I had to _fix_ something.

After bathing, dressing and finding a note James had left me, I set about. My first order of business (no matter how clichéd it seemed) reaching out to Professor Dumbledore. Like it or not, the Headmaster was who I needed. He had answers, resources and an imagination that would convince him of my time-traveling ways. I thought of going it alone, but even one person couldn't change the world without help. It was a necessity.

I needed that reassurance more than anything. I needed someone to know of me, to believe me. Though I had told James a little of my predicament, he knew little to nothing.

So Professor Dumbledore it would be.

Thankfully he appreciated the silly and over-the-top missive I wrote to him. Once one tickled the old man's curiosity, they were on his radar. A place I needed to be, but also loathed to be. Professor Dumbledore for all his amazingness, was still crafty. One had to be terribly careful around him.

By mid-afternoon, I had a return owl from him, inviting me for an evening snack and conversation.

The stone was thrown into the water and the first ripple started to fetter out. My thoughts of Harry and everyone lost pushed me further. My mind was made up: I would meddle with time, I would change what I could, and if that meant some eternal punishment, then so be it.

If I was punished for trying to eradicate evil from off the face of the earth, then it truly was a cruel and unforgiving universe we lived in.

Like it or not, I was returning to Hogwarts. It brought painful tears to my eyes.

This was for Harry.

This was for Ron

This was for James, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Lily and countless, nameless faces.

This was for me.

.

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I silently walked the halls of my Alma Mater, allowing past memories from years spent to wash over me.

Hogwarts was the place where I had finally belonged; the place that allowed an eleven-year-old, bushy haired girl to fit in and find herself.

As a child, strange things happened around me for which my parents had no answers. So when an owl appeared out of nowhere, carrying a letter for a magically-gifted child I all but screamed in joy. I wasn't terribly different after all, and there was an explanation for my odd behavior.

My parents loved me unconditionally, but I could tell there was a part of them that feared what I could do. Professor McGonagall showed up, showed my family our first piece of controlled magic, and three days after my acceptance letter was sent.

I had been scared on my first train ride to Hogwarts, but hid it behind false bravado. I had read and studied the many books my parents had purchased for me at Flourish and Blotts, but it hadn't felt enough.

There were children who had far more knowledge about my new world, and all I wanted was to make sure I wasn't behind the curve; something foreign to me.

On the train I met few people. I had met the famous Harry Potter and the red head with the dirty nose. Seeing the red head fail at doing a spell did make me feel better. It wasn't his failure I rejoiced at, it was knowing that I wasn't the only one who may have problems.

While taking a boat ride across the lake, I looked upon the castle for the first time. It stole my breath away, literally; I had never seen anything so beautiful, ethereal and majestic. This would be my home for the next seven years of my magical career, and I couldn't wait to live my destiny.

The year started and I realized (that just like in the muggle word) I was shunned, friendless, and compensated for my lack of friends with my knowledge. I already knew what happened when I acted in such a way – people made fun of me for my know-it-all tendencies and refused to acknowledge me. I knew I came off as holier-than-thou, but I knew no other way to act.

I hid behind my knowledge and used it as a defense. I may not have had friends, but I had brains and the answers to questions. Halloween came and with the combined efforts of knocking out a mountain troll and lying for others I had two new friends. Harry, Ron, and Hermione became the trio of Gryffindor first years . . . inseparable.

The years passed and more adventures were had. We shared our lives together. We fought, we made up, we fancied each other, and we forgave. My love for Harry and Ron could not be touched. I sacrificed for them, but I never regretted my choices. Harry became my main concern and the very person my thoughts always revolved around.

Our times together cemented our relationship. No one compared. I was never sure what gave Harry such top-billing in my world, but he was there regardless – _my Harry_. My every action in the magical world started to revolve around him; every book I read contained some knowledge that he would later on need to survive.

I loved Ron, and I even fancied myself besotted with him, but even he couldn't compare to Harry. We were indeed a trio, but within that trio one stood out above the other.

Our friendship transcended certain definitions or confines of 'relationships'. I loved him with my heart and soul and would willingly give my life. I didn't love him like a brother or a lover, but as simply Harry. We weren't soul mates because I found that label too clichéd, but it was somewhere in that category.

I simply loved.

The ghosts of my past continued to breathe down my neck, whisper in my ears as I walked the empty halls of the school. I was nowhere ready to be in the school, so close to the place I had been torn from, but things had to happen, conversations needed to be had.

Thankfully, Dumbledore was an intelligent wizard and decided to take a meeting with me. I knew it was beyond clichéd to meet with Dumbledore, but he was a man with connections, answers and a support network I needed admittance to. However, I was smart enough in my own right and knew this man wasn't infallible. I was going in with blinders off and guards up.

Intrigued by what I had written, Dumbledore agreed to a meeting. He had offered the use of his floo in his response letter to me, but I wanted to walk the hallways again, allowing myself some semblance of balm to my broken heart.

After sending my Patronus to the Headmaster, letting him know of my arrival, the gates opened to allow me in. Dumbledore had already been advised of the shape my Patronus took and we decided that was how the Headmaster would be able to identify me.

I finally approached the Headmaster's office and gave the necessary password of pumpkin pasty to the stone guards. They stepped to the side and I rode the ascending staircase to the awaiting door. I politely knocked and waited for entrance.

"Enter please," came his gentle reply. I took one needed breath to steady myself then opened the door. Hesitantly, I stepped in, trying to pull myself from the last time I been here; when Snape had been Headmaster.

I was pleasantly surprised to see "Dumbledore's Office".

His many books lined the polished shelves of his circular office. Paintings of past headmasters and headmistresses hung on the walls and looked at me with interest. The little table that held his instruments was there with little clouds of vapor and steam puffing away. His large desk still sat in the middle of the inner room. And to my happiness the perch for his Phoenix stood behind it just to the left. Fawkes looked over at me and let out a soft cry. His music filled my ears and brought tender peace to my battered soul.

"Hello, Miss Granger. Please take a seat, child." Albus Dumbledore finally spoke. It had been more than a year since I heard that worn voice. It sent shivers through my spine. This situation was too surreal at times, causing me the most intense feelings of confusion and delirium. I felt in a constant state of _**Déjà Vu**_.

After shakily taking a seat, I finally allowed my eyes to fall on him: half-moon spectacles, longish beard, crooked nose, flashing eyes, serene smile.

Dumbledore seemed a relic that even time couldn't touch.

Fawkes' trilling pulled me from the still-alive headmaster and over to him. Unsurprisingly, he flew over to me and landed gently on my leg. His weight gave me a warm comfort and allowed me the time to gather my wits. I stroked his brilliant plumage as he sang his pleasure.

"Fawkes seems fond of you, Ms. Hermione." Though the headmaster tried sounding nonchalantly jovial, I could sense the undertones of suspicion, uncertainty and awe. I wasn't the only one a mixed bag of emotions.

"He's usually more reserved around those he's unfamiliar with. He shows regard to those who've shown me great loyalty." If he only knew the loyalty I had shown him.

I gathered all of my remaining courage and looked into Professor Dumbledore's aged visage. The lines on his face were not as pronounced as when I had known him. The war hadn't quite reached its pinnacle here. Yet here sat a ghost in front of me.

Fawkes rubbed his head into my chest, sending waves of serenity through my flesh. "Thanks, beautiful boy," I mumbled for his ears alone.

Bravely looking up, I spoke, "Hello Headmaster Dumbledore." He peered over his glasses, trying to further assess my character. I must have been a strange enigma to him, especially considering his familiar's reaction to me.

"Your letter was quite intriguing, my dear."

Straight to the point then, Dumbledore.

"You wrote it would be in my best interest to meet with you, that I had an infinity for woolly socks and that music was a **magic beyond all we do here**. Words I ascribe to. A strange missive indeed, Ms. Hermione."

I bit the inside of my lip, trying not to inappropriately giggle at my silly letter. Yet I knew it would get Dumbledore's attention without giving away any information if the letter had been intercepted. I was now on another level of paranoia.

"I must confess I have never heard of you and find myself stymied. I wonder why it is you wanted to meet with me and not someone else. Your name hasn't appeared in the books of Hogwarts, yet you know your way to my office. So please, my dear, take away an old man's suspense and tell me what you need of me." His soft voice made my heart constrict with pain.

I had missed him and mourned his death, yet here he sat in front of my very eyes. I could feel a tear slip, cascading heavily down my cheek. I wiped the skin below my left eye and replaced my hand on Fawkes. He had yet to abandon me. I contemplated what I wanted to say and how I wanted to phrase my words.

"Why do you cry, child?" the Headmaster asked while watching me wipe at my traitorous tears.

I ignored his question and asked him one of my own. A most pivotal query

"Do you believe in time travel, Professor?" My words caught his attention even more and he sat up straighter.

"That's an interesting question, my dear. To give you an answer, yes I believe in time travel. There are many theories on the subject and tests have been conducted. I myself have never experienced such a thing."

He was hooked.

"I don't know of any tests that have been conducted, Headmaster, only my knowledge and my own experiences." His eyes widened at my words, quickly catching my meaning.

"Am I to surmise that you are either from the past or the future, but not this present time?"

Bluntly, "Surmise all you like, Headmaster, but the words I will tell you are true. You may choose to believe them or you may call St. Mungo's and book me the best room they have available." He chuckled at my jest and the sound of his laughter made my heart clench again.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary. You seem lucid and like a level-headed young lady." I bowed my head in thankfulness.

"Now that we have established your sanity, would you care to tell me why we are having this meeting?" His fingers wove together and he placed them on his desk top.

There was no easy way to break into the topic so I candidly stated the truth, "My name's Hermione Granger and I'm from the future, Headmaster." My thoughts raced towards Harry, but I pushed him from my mind. I couldn't afford another breakdown.

"Through some unknown force, I was pulled back into the past." He tilted his head to the side as he searched my face for any fallacies, for surely I had to be lying. Fawkes trilled again and I continued my ministrations of his feathers, taking great comfort from his song.

"And this is truth you speak, Miss Granger?"

"Every word, professor," I said shortly and waited for him to continue.

"You seem like a lovely person, but we live in troubled times. How am I to know that you are not having me on or part of some nefarious plot to sabotage me."

Fawkes turned around, faced Dumbledore and started to angrily chirp from my lap, as if giving his companion a what-for.

"Thanks, boy." Giggling at an angry, chirping phoenix, I softly, calmly stroked his feathers.

"Your full name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Your parents are Percival and Kendra. You had a sister named Ariana who was thought a squib, but was far from it. She died at a young age from an accident involving you, your brother Aberforth, and a _cl-close friend_."

I awkwardly cleared my throat as bright tears started to cloud his eyes at my words. This was the only way (short of Veritaserum) I knew to get Dumbledore to believe me. I wasn't quite ready to show him my memories in his pensive, and Legilimes was out of question.

"Your mother is muggle-born, and your father pure-blood, which makes you a half-blood. Your childhood home was Mould-on-the-Wold. After your father's arrest you moved to Godric's Hallow, and there your family stayed until the death of first your mother, and then your poor younger sister."

I stopped speaking again, allowing him to take in my words. There was more I could say to him, but I didn't want to go on about his history and his mistakes. I tried to clear the tears from my eyes but continue to burn my irises.

"How are you able to know all this?" he asked sincerely, not out of anger but out of sadness and need. "There are only three people who know of the circumstances of my sister's death, besides me, and I know they would never break such a confidence."

I continued, "Firstly there is Aberforth who is a social recluse and spends his time tending the bar of Hog's Head. He would never betray his sister in such a way as for me to deceive you, no matter your history. Secondly there is Bathilda Bagshot whom tried to befriend your mother when your family arrived, but was refused. She became fond of you and later on you were considered friends. Thirdly there was her great nephew whose name I shall not say."

Again I didn't want to get further into his history

"I don't understand how you could know all these personal things about me, child." he murmured in confusion.

"As I've already told you, professor," I whispered, "I'm from the future. Some things I found out from a very reliable source." I thought of Aberforth and the story he had told us from his own memory, for his own need to purge. "There was also a book released about your life; your mistakes, your short comings, and speculations surrounding your sister's death, which didn't have all the details but most of them. As you know already no such book exist today, and the secrets of your family are safely guarded as of now."

I could feel my head start to hurt from the pressure, and the Headmaster's broken face wasn't helping. His regrets were written clearly on his face and it tore at my very heart.

"There has always been fodder written about me, but to mention my sister in a book and what happened to her is truly uncalled for." His wrinkled finger swiped the fallen tears from under his glasses.

"You see, Miss Granger, I tried to protect her, but I was never able to give her what she required like Aberforth. She loved him so dearly and only wanted to help. It is the biggest regret of my life. Please forgive an old man for showing such emotion, and pulling my skeletons from my families' closet, as muggles say." He gave me a sad smile that didn't even reach the corners of his mouth.

"Then you can understand my dilemma, Professor. When I first learned that I had traveled to the past I became terribly distraught. I know what happens to wizards and witches who meddled with time. It is beyond dangerous and can lead to many catastrophic outcomes, but I digress. When I learned of the time I had traveled to and the things I knew, I started to think, Professor, see. We were in the very midst of a war when I was brought here, and I knew the circumstances and some of the outcomes of past wars.

My voice started to sound strangled, frantic.

"I also knew the reasons behind Voldemort, the monster that had created such mayhem in our world. His changing appearance, his vaunted longevity. There are some things you may know about Tom Riddle, Professor Dumbledore, but you don't know everything, yeah?"

He gasped audibly at my words. This was one of the many secrets he kept close to his chest, and was more than surprised that I knew it. Dumbledore had started his research into Voldemort long before the prophecy had been told.

I continued, "He created a world where many died and I was wanted because of the status of my blood. Many were needlessly killed and so much innocent blood spilled, spilled, spilled. All for some notion that pure-bloods are better than half-bloods and muggle-borns. I watched as my family and friends were murdered before my very eyes. I have night terrors of their deaths and my mind screams with the images of their broken bodies. My most beloved friend was hunted by Riddle and his whole life torn apart.

My voice started to shake, "So I thought to myself and asked, if I had the chance to rid the world of Voldemort for good and others didn't have to die and many others didn't have to suffer for his pure-blood mania, would I, and I answered myself with a resounding 'yes'. If I never tried, Professor, it would be the greatest single regret of my life. How could I ever look my beloved friend in the face and tell him I didn't even take the opportunity to try? He knows that I try to save everything that breathes, it just how I'm built. Many say he has a saving people complex, but he said that _they are full of shit_ and I'm _ten times worse_.

A smile broke over my lips as I thought of Harry and his absurd notions.

"How could I truly live with myself if I were to return to my time and witness all the destruction and anguish of other's knowing I had an opportunity to change things? I truly don't think I would be able to survive such massive and overwhelming guilt. I would drown under the pressure."

I whimpered and let my final words float in the room and sink into his mind. Spin, twirl and start to form in that brilliant mind.

"How can I allow you to interfere with time, Miss Granger?" His voice was grave, but I could also hear his reluctance.

Oh, how he underestimated me.

"Please tell me the truth, Professor. If you were taken back in time to the scene of your greatest failure or to a time that had the potential to be your greatest regret, would you try and change what you already knew? When you look into the Mirror of Eirsed, what do you see, sir?"

A tear fell from his eye and disappeared into his beard. They were simple questions that required complicated answers. There would always be unknowns, but I had learned in war one couldn't allow one's fears to dictate one's choices.

I gave him one more thing to consider. " _If the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric_."

"Who spoke those words, child?"

"They were spoken by a very brave and smart man; they were spoken by you, Professor." The twinkle in his eyes weren't alight by the light that usually reflected in them, but by the tears that glistened there.

"I chose to remember Cedric, sir, a boy needlessly cut down by Voldemort, and I chose to remember all of the other countless people who were killed in vain. Which way do you choose, _what is right or what is easy_? One of the things I silently admired about you, Professor, was your ability to let others learn for themselves and to make their own mistakes. You allow a person to fall so that they know how to pick themselves up next time. You let a person face their challenges, which is their right, even though you know the dangers. You allow a person to learn their weakness and limitations by fighting and learning the things they need to for their own battles. You help along the way, but step back when necessary. This is now what _I need_ from you."

The lines on his face were even deeper than when I had stepped into his office. I knew this was going to be a difficult meeting and the evidence of that was written on both our faces.

Fawkes had beautifully trilled during the meeting, giving us both the strength that was needed and appreciated. Dumbledore lifted his head and looked to Fawkes. The Phoenix looked at him in return as if in silent communication. A tear slipped from the Phoenix's eye and fell to my lap where it disappeared in a wisp of steam.

"You speak words far beyond someone your age, Miss Granger. I'm sure you have lived and witnessed things that have changed you in ways one cannot imagine. War is such a sad state in this world, and something I don't think will ever be outgrown. But we aren't speaking of others, we are talking of Tom Riddle and his ambitions to take over our world because it doesn't conform to his rationality or beliefs. I watched you, my dear, as you spoke and I could find only sincerity in your words. The fact that Fawkes is so attracted to you shows a purity of heart that not many possess. You asked me would I change something if I had the opportunity and knowledge, and I don't have an answer.

Instinctually, I knew he would change Arianna's lot in life given the chance.

"Everyone is different and no two people think alike. I speak to others of bravery and love. I also speak to others of acceptance and death being the next great adventure. These ideas coincide, but they can also contradict each other. You show bravery in wishing to rescue those whom you love and cherish. You want to change the unfairness and injustice which was inflicted upon them. I would say that is an admirable ambition and shows the very core and essence of whom you are. Then there is the other side of myself that would lecture you to accept what has happened. It does not do well to linger on things of the past and forget to live, but then there is the conundrum, you are living in the past.

He stroked his bread as he made his speech. I simply wanted to know where he stood. Even if I didn't have his support I would continue on my own. My mind was set and I wasn't going to waste an opportunity that was given to me, no matter how in vain.

Harry, Ron, James, Sirius, Remus and everyone else deserved differently.

"So what does this all mean, Miss Granger?" That was the very thing I wanted to know. "I will not stand in your way. I've never been presented with such an opportunity and have never been in this situation. But I will let you make your own choices and as you said so eloquently earlier, I will allow you to fall so that you can learn. I will be there if needed, and I will give help to you if you require it." I felt the smile take over my mouth, feeling warm, salty tears that fell from my lashes.

"Thank you, sir. You have no idea what kind of weight that's been lifted from my shoulders. I just knew you couldn't allow such atrocities to continue when you had the potential to stop it."

"I suppose you know me well, Miss Granger? So what can you tell me of Riddle and his plans?" I thought about what I wanted to tell him and instead of answering his question I decided to ask one of my own and see how I could take him on.

"Tell me, Professor Dumbledore, have you met with Sibyll Trelawney yet?" He gave me a confused look. "You are in need of a Divination Professor, are you not?" This time his face registered surprise, something that wasn't commonly displayed on his wrinkled face. I wanted to laugh despite the seriousness of the situation.

"My surprise has obviously given you the answer you seek. Would you be so kind as to tell me how these questions are prevalent?" I considered him for a moment but decided to ask him another question.

"Do you have any hope that Sibyll is a true seer, Mr. Dumbledore?" He let out a chuckle and I couldn't help but laugh with him.

"Again, Miss. Granger, you seem to know the workings of an old man's mind and have no need for me to elaborate. I'll soon come to be useless in your presence."

"Allow me to give your life some purpose," I jested. He lifted his hand in a gesture for me to continue. However, he couldn't hide the smile that broke over his aged face. "In a couple months times you will arrange a meeting with Sibyll Trelawney and she will relate to you a prophecy." His face showed his skepticism about her abilities, but I knew he would soon believe. "She will tell you something that has the potential to change the status quo of the times." At the seriousness of my voice the look of unbelief left his face and morphed into more open-mindedness.

"Am I able to trust you, sir?" I asked him deeply, wanting to know that he could give me what I needed, but also taking the lessons I knew of him and applying them to my choices.

Even if he answered in the affirmative I wasn't sure if I could simply rely on his word. I wanted to see if he would be honest with me. The time where I trusted everything he said blindly was far behind me. I was in a precarious situation, and I had to take all precautions.

"I would like to answer you with a whole-hearted yes, Miss Granger, but I would be remiss with your trust. You know my past and you know I'm fallible. I know my weaknesses, child, and power is one of those things that corrupts me. I have stayed in this post because I felt it has been the safest place for me. I am still intellectually challenged and able to have a say in the lives of our future generations. I have shied away from the many offers of being Minister of Magic because of my proclivity for control. So if I am to answer you honestly, I would like you to trust me, but I wouldn't," he said in an almost defeated voice. I had seen the Headmaster saddened and disheartened, but I had never seen him dejected. I guessed his being honest brought him back to the root of his problems.

"Headmaster, allow me to say that I'm thankful for your candor. Of course you already knew I had knowledge of your past dealings, but you could have still withheld the truth from me. I am going to tell you what I know, but I will require a Wizarding Oath on pain of death from you. I don't do this out of spite or anger. I have many things that in the wrong hands could be the end of our world, and I do not joke. I will need your help and your support."

He studied me over his half-rimmed glasses and the twinkle that usually accompanied his eyes was vacant. I knew he was taking me seriously and not playing his senile grandfatherly games.

"You have my word, Miss Granger, and I will also make the oath. My word I give out of my respect for you, and the oath I give to you as a gift." He looked me full in the eye and spoke without blinking. He brought his wand up to his face and aligned it with his crooked nose. I copied him and listened to the words he gave.

"I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, of sound mind and under no duress do freely swear on pain of death under the laws that accompany a Wizarding Oath I will tell no one of Hermione Granger's, or any other alias she may attain, secrets unless given express permission to do so by said person. I will be honest and forthcoming with her in my words and actions. Do you accept?" he asked.

"I do."

"I do solemnly swear on pain of death under the laws that accompany a Wizarding Oath that I will give and provide available help to aid Hermione Granger, or any other alias she may obtain, on any and all missions that help to rid the world of Lord Voldemort after being given the details of the mission in disclosure and honesty. Do you accept?"

The headmaster was correct in adding such a provision. I would have thought less of him if he had completely given me full reign of his powers without there being some balance and disclosure. One could easily be persuaded by Voldemort, and Dumbledore knew this all too well. My respect for him deepened. I answered him with full confidence, "I do."

"I do solemnly swear on pain of death under the laws that accompany a Wizarding Oath that I will be there for Hermione Granger, or any other alias she may obtain, if she has the need to talk to someone. I will give her my shoulder to cry on if needed, to lean on if the pressure becomes too much, and to take over her mission if death were to take her without letting my penchant for power corrupt me. Do you accept?"

Again I was touched by his words. He was making it possible that he couldn't repeat his history unless he wanted to die. He was also offering me the comfort and support I would undoubtedly require along my journey.

I was strong and I could deal with many things, but everyone needed someone to lean on and he was willing to be that person for me. There were no guarantees that I wouldn't die, so I was happy there was someone else who would continue my mission if I weren't able to. Thankfully I answered, "I do."

"Is there anything else you require of me, Miss Granger?" I knew there was one more thing I needed, but was afraid of how he would react. This was the most important thing I required.

"Yes, Headmaster. I need you to promise that you will not act on the information I give you without my express permission after disclosing all details of my plans to you. You will not conduct any missions using that information or have others do anything in a round-about-way that could foil what I need to do. I need you to not interfere or try and dissuade anyone who may want to help me with my missions. This is what I require of you, Albus Dumbledore, and if you cannot give me this oath than all else is in vain."

"You ask for much, Miss Granger."

I thought of what he said, but I knew it was essential. He was known for doing things his way and not having regard for others. He believed that he was doing everything for the greater good, and kept his secrets close to his chest. It was as his brother said: he learned secrecy at his mother's knee.

"I know, sir, but this is what's needed. I would not ask if it weren't." He let out a heavy sigh and I could see the resignation on his face.

"I do solemnly swear on pain of death under the laws that accompany a Wizarding Oath that I will not act on the information Hermione Granger, or any other alias she may obtain, gives me in any way without her express permission after disclosing all details of my plans to her. I will not conduct any missions using that information or have others do anything in a round-about-way that could foil what she needs to do. I will not interfere or try and dissuade anyone who may want to help her with missions. So long as she lives and breathes. Do you accept?"

I played over in my head the words he gave to me, making sure there were no loop holes for him to act in a nefarious way behind my back. I needed complete honesty from him and not half-truths. After finding his words adequate, I said my part of the oath knowing he would be bound by his words, "I do."

"Then so be it, Miss Hermione Granger."

"Then so be it, Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." As I finished my words, gold lights flew from the tips of both of our wands and intertwined before they sunk into our wand hands and faded. We lowered our wands at the same time and I let the residue of power settle around me before I opened my eyes again.

"Since I have made a promise not to do so, allow me to caution you, Miss Granger, having so much power at one's disposal has the ability to corrupt one in ways one cannot imagine. Even if one has the best of intentions there are always ways in which they can fall. I speak from experience when I say . . ." I opened my eyes and looked up to the ceiling. I knew many (of course not all) of his experiences and at _that moment_ I didn't need to hear them; if I required his guidance in the future then I would ask, but for now I wanted to end the meeting.

 _Solitude_ was much needed.

"I already know, Professor Dumbledore," I spoke in a kind but sad voice, remembering the tragedies of his past. His blue eyes didn't twinkle as he looked back at me, a girl who wanted to alter the past for her loved ones. "And please call me Hermione. We have shared magic after all." He nodded his head in resignation.

"Of course you already know, Hermione. Then I wish you the best, my dear. Of course you will have me at your disposal and my resources. I'm sure you're already familiar with . . ."

" . . . The Order of the Phoenix," I finished for him, the familiar twinkle returned to his eyes.

"The very same." He folded his hands and leaned further back into his chair as he examined me. I felt a gentle probe into my mind, and held in my anger.

"Please don't disrespect me, sir. I hold you in high regard. Even when your protégé lost his faith in you, I defended you to him, spoke of your love for him no matter what was written in ink on the pages of a slanderous book. When he learned of your past and the mistakes you made in youthful arrogance and folly I again defended you, trying to make him see that everyone makes mistakes, no matter how infallible one may seem in a later age. If you have questions, ask. Don't attempt to enter my mind without permission." I told him in a serious but soft voice. "It's something I won't tolerate."

Shock was the first emotion that ran the gambit on his face which was quickly followed by remorse, and then respect. His cheeks tinged pink, and I wondered if he had blushed or was taken by surprise. He had the good manners to look sheepish. I supposed he thought me untrained in the ways of Occlumency. There were more surprises about me he would learn in time.

"If I apologized for my lack of propriety, would you believe me?"

"Of course," I replied without haste. Dumbledore had his many faults and I was no stranger to his misjudgments, but I also knew he loved and he regretted hurting those he loved.

"Then I am sorry, Miss Granger."

"Then I accept." His genial smile returned to his face. I knew I was here for a certain reason and I wondered what the best way to go about it was. I bit my bottom lip in concentration and then berated myself for such a telling and terrible habit.

Raising my hand, I put a silencing bubble around us, not even wanting the portraits to hear what I was about to say. I could see them yelling, but thankfully, no sound penetrated my magic.

I swallowed the vast amount of moisture in my mouth and told him the prophecy,

" _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches . . . born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . . . and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not . . . and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . . . the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies . ._."

"I know how to kill him and make sure he doesn't return without this prophecy having to be fulfilled."

"But you've heard the prophecy yourself, Hermione. It is told that there will be a special person whom will have the powers to vanquish, and it was specific that it was a male."

"Yes, sir, I have heard it but there is also something you must realize. A wise person once told my best friend that if Voldemort had never heard the prophecy then it would not have been fulfilled. Not all prophecies are fulfilled. There are some that come about but are never heard by anyone."

"And who may have that been, Hermione?"

"Why, it was you dear professor," I said with a smirk on my lips, which would have made Malfoy envious.

"You like to use my words against me, Hermione," he said, eyes twinkling like mad. "I must say, and forgive me for being forward about myself, but I seem to be even wiser than I am now." We both chuckled at his words.

"So it would seem." I looked at the clock on his wall and saw that it was past midnight. There was something I had to do and I wanted to accomplish it tonight. I knew that it would solidify my decision to change the past, and finally be one step closer to ending that horrible monster.

"Sir, if I have your permission there is something I need to do in the school. It is the beginning of my mission. Please know that I would never put any student in harm's way, and what I have to do won't affect anyone in the least, except for myself. The students are in bed and it would be the perfect time to do it. I ask for your trust, sir, and for your confidence. Please know that I want no personal glory, thus I had you take the oath not to tell anyone. I just want our world to be better and free for everyone to choose what they want." I stopped my passionate plea when he raised his hand to silence me.

"I know, my dear. I ask that when you are done you would take the time to let me know what you did. It doesn't have to be directly after, but sometime in the near future – no pun intended."

We both laughed and I felt lighter about what I needed to do with having his confidence. I stood up reached out my hand and waited for him to reply. He didn't disappoint. He placed his in mine and we both shook. He turned my hand over and placed a kiss above the knuckle, "Good luck, Hermione Granger, and I'm here if needed." I quickly squeezed his hand, released it, removed the silencing charm about us and turned for the exit.

As I was about to open the door, Fawkes flew off his perch and followed me. He landed softly on my shoulder and I turned back to the headmaster after he cleared his throat. He had a strange look in his eye, but I could also see curiosity and amazement. I guessed he wasn't used to seeing Fawkes respond in such a way.

I wanted to reassure him that all was fine, but I didn't have much time to waste. I was needed elsewhere. "You will return my phoenix to me won't you, Miss Granger?" His face showed his humor and his voice was filled with mirth. It was good to have the old man back in my life. He had truly been missed.

" _Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak_ ," I said to him, not being able to restrain myself. His boisterous laugh reminded me of Slughorn, but it was oddly comforting coming from Dumbledore.

"A girl after my own heart," he said as I left his office to take care of something that would began my new journey in the past, and my mission in ridding the world of the monster who had taken so much from it.

Things were happening faster than even I imagined.

The ripples were about to fetter out further than ever before.

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AN: Thanks to all who reviewed. This chapter as always is dedicated to you.

There were several questions: No, Harry and Hermione were never dating. As she described in this chapter, their relationship was beyond that. She loves him like no other. In the books, JK wrote the most beautiful of relationships

to me… that of Harry and Hermione. They didn't have a romantic love, but I believed they loved each other the most. Hermione actions speak the loudest. Everything she did was for Harry. She even chose Harry over her love of Ron (her hearts choice). To me that speaks of a friendship that transcends so much. So pure and beautiful.

Second, Lily will make her appearance. We are only in the third chapter, and this will be a longish journey. She will be in the story plenty.

Third, Hermione will have romance in this story. What is fanfiction without it. Stick around for that, loves. ;-)

Forth, I know the first several chapters were angsty and sad, but I wanted to convey (in a realistic way) the emotions Hermione is feeling. I can't even fathom being ripped from everything I know and that's familiar and being transported to a time I don't belong. The emotions would be overwhelming and so surreal. I would literally breakdown. Angst won't be the only emotion in this story. There will be levity, love, happiness, fright, pain, anger, and a whole bag of emotions.

SOOO, sorry for the long AN. And please, stay tuned. Many hugs.

Disclaimer:Directs lines from the books are those of JK Rowling's amazing work. No copy right infringement is meant.


	5. Count How Many Tears

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 **AN** : There may be _trigger warnings_ in the chapter. This will be a somewhat dark story, and does have an 'M' rating. Please take that into account. But it's nothing too graphic.

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 **Count How Many Tears**

 _Tonight I'll stand in the light so you can count how many tears fall from my eyes... This time I'll be alright, my heart can't get any worse._

 _-The Starting Line_

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October 1979 – Hermione's POV

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Reading _Hogwarts, A History_ had always given me such pleasure. I knew most found it boring, but it had such wonderful information. It told a grand tale of the beginning of the school, the founders and some secrets and legends the castle held. It told of the castle's limitations, but also of the school's greatness.

One thing it held very little information about was the Come-and-Go room - a room that seemed to hold limitless possibilities. One simply had to think what they wanted, what they needed and it would appear. That was some magic to behold.

The Room of Requirement.

Transformative magic beyond anyone's comprehension.

As I stood there – in front of that expansive wall where the room was hidden – I thought of its mystic, its splendor, its potential, its ability.

Taking the strength that I needed from the school, from myself, from my phantom Harry and from Fawkes' gentle trilling, I closed my eyes and allowed my imagination to paint a picture of what I needed.

Pacing quietly from one side of the wall to the other, I thought hard …

A safe place … a room where things are hidden … a place where no one could enter except for myself and Fawkes … the rest of the school safe from harm

A safe place … the room where things are hidden … a place where no one could enter or exit except for myself and Fawkes … the rest of the school safe from harm

A safe place … the Room of Requirement … a place where no one, no, no, no one could enter or exit except for myself and Fawkes … the rest of the school safe from harm.

This is what I needed, and as I stopped for the last time in front of the blank expanse, the wall began to morph.

Old, wooden doors began to appear, weathered with age, yet beautifully intricate in design.

Slightly trembling, I reached out and twisted the aged door knob. The heavy door opened with a slight creak, allowing me entrance into its hidden depth.

As I stepped in, I knew that things now changed. I willingly took that step, knowing I was changing history, changing a timeline and turning time on its side. I knew destiny wouldn't be happy with me (if such a thing even existed) but it was a chance _I had to take_. Many countless had suffered, many innocents had died, and terrible atrocities were committed.

I wasn't some hero, or some super brave person. But I was a girl taking charge and embracing an opportunity presented to me. I accepted it wholeheartedly and the responsibilities that came along with such a monumental decision.

I knew little of my situation, how I had gotten here, where I was to go or how I would eventually end up, but I knew one thing – Voldemort was going down and that bastard was going to die.

Death was coming for us all, and I was determined for Death to find Voldemort rather sooner than later, like a dark, dangerous friend.

Harry's life depended on it … Harry, Ron, James, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, Tonks, the Weasley's, Lily, my muggle parents and so many, many, many others.

With my nerves, stretched beyond comprehension (but my strength resolved) I stepped fully into the room and allowed the heavy wooden doors to close behind me, close me in and protect the rest of the school from the evil that resided in this very room.

I was determined. I was scared. I was giddy. I was apprehensive. I was Hermione Granger and ready.

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Wisps of memories caressed my skin unwelcomingly. The hairs on my raised flesh stood on end. It wasn't the cold of the room which made my skin pebble, but the ominous feeling slithering along my spine, to the very pit of my stomach.

The room was just as I remembered: piles of broken, forgotten things littered the floor and stood in tall piles. There must have been a century of neglected items cluttering the walking paths of the cavernous room.

Raising my eyes to the ceiling, I took in the grand arches of the wooden beams and dusty chandeliers that decorated the dome. Shudders of gloom and doom continued whispering in my ear. The only thing that stopped me from jumping out of my skin was Fawkes comforting weight on my shoulder and his warm plumage rubbing against my cheek. He really was a sweet, brave phoenix.

"Thanks, Fawkes. We have a special friendship, yeah?"

His haunting trills were a spelling answer.

No one really knew of our connections. It was something so very special that I kept close to the heart, something I didn't even share with Harry. Some things were meant to be kept silent.

Our bond had started one lonely night on the Astronomy Tower. The air had been crisp that night and the stars in the firmament spectacular.

My heart had been broken and the solidary tears were running heavily down my chilled cheeks. I had no friends to speak of and it seemed as if every child in Hogwarts hated me.

As I went to swipe angrily at the fallen tears, I had let out an embarrassing yelp. Something slightly heavy and hot had landed ever-so-softly on my shoulder. Slowly I turned my head and looked into the most understanding eyes I'd ever beheld. The dark orbs held such wisdom, compassion. No pity.

Precariously, I reached out and touched the most beautiful bird I'd ever seen. Gently he lowered his head and allowed me to touch him. Soft trills danced on the air around us, blanketing us with lazy contentment.

"You're a Phoenix," I said stupidly, surprised all the same. I could have sworn Fawkes smiled at me indulgently, but he simply chirped, as if answering my question.

"You are so very beautiful, boy. Yes, you are." He raised his head and stared so poignantly at me. My heart started to pound erratically. I didn't know what was happening (and to this day I still do not understand), but Fawkes did.

"Thank you," I whispered in amazement, completely in awe of this gorgeous creature.

With my confessions of an outcast that night and his gentle, lulling lullabies he sang to me, we created a very real, very tangible bond.

The brilliant star-lit sky had been our friend that night, too.

And as the night waned into dusky pink, he flew away.

Leaving as mysteriously as he came.

.

Our bond had only continued over the years, and as I started this new, terrifying journey, I found that brave beautiful Phoenix with me again.

"Shall we, boy?"

Soft chirps sounded in my ear, encouraging me to continue on.

My footsteps seemed to echo around the room, bouncing off the large piles of junk.

Thankfully I knew where to head and what I needed. I only needed to grab the Horcrux and get the hell out of here. Quickly I picked my way around the junk, working my way further into the labyrinth. Every now and then I would startle, convince I'd seen something, but Fawkes's presence would bring be back to focus.

And before I realized there it stood – in all its tainted exquisite glory – the not-so-lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. It really was a dazzling piece of history: the wings that stood forever out stretched, the diamonds that lined the feathers, the large blue jewel that banded the entire tiara together, and the most famous words of Ravenclaw house ' _Wit without measure is a man's greatest treasure_.' scrolled along the bottom of the diadem.

Simply magnificent.

It was so easy to see why Tom Riddle coveted this piece of history. As if in a trance I reached out for the diadem. A mere centimeter from touching it, I felt a sharp pinch on my outstretched hand. Chirping madly in my ear was Fawkes. I can only imagine the things he said to me; but, even his scolding sounded hauntingly aching.

Shaking from the stupidity of my actions, I pulled back and tried to center myself. These were dangerous times, and with one wrong move I was dead. This was no time for fool's remorse and scolded myself to do better.

"Thanks, Fawkes." He rubbed his face against mine.

As I went to look at the diadem again, something terrible started to happen. As if sensing it was somehow in trouble, a terrible smoke started to appear from the metal.

I instantly fell back, putting as much space between the rotten thing and myself. Sadly, Fawkes fell from my shoulder, but I didn't have much time to pay attention, for something started to appear from the tiara.

Before I could make out a shape, terrible, disturbing images swam before my eyes.

" _Harry, run_ …

" _The fire, it's cursed. It's fiendfyre, Harry_."

" _Vincent! Vincent, Noo_!" Malfoy yells, as we all watch the cursed fire greedily eat Vincent Crabbe.

" _Don't curse him, you bloody bastard_!" I yell at Goyle, who tries to curse Harry with dark curses.

" _Hermione, behind me! Let me for once protect YOU_." Harry screams at me as I try to push him away from Goyle's dark curses. " _No, Harry_ … _No. You have to live. YOU just HAVE to. I CAN'T_."

I tried to shake myself from the visions, from the memories, from the trance the diadem had me in, but before I was free, something darker started to cloud my vision: something dark, sinister and one of the most traumatizing times of my life.

 _I am left alone in the drawing room. I can feel the slices in my neck, feel the blood trickling down from where Bellatrix cut me with her knife. I can feel the beginning of the curse slice in my arm as she tried to cut me there, but was stopped by Malfoy. "The Dark Lord would want her somewhat unblemished, Bella," Lucius oily commanded. They argued and she stomped off in a strop, not being able to play with the Mudblood._

 _She pulls Draco and Narcissa with her, wanting to go and get Potter and call the Dark Lord. I am left alone with Lucius, all but broken and defeated on their dirty stone floor._

 _Several Cruciatus curses have been placed upon me. My nerves are on fire; I feel as if I've been stabbed with thousands of fiery needles. How I'm alive still, I can't tell. My throat is beyond torn from screaming and calling out for my Harry._

 _But I don't blame him. If I had to endure this again, I would. I'm no martyr, I just have to protect the other half of me._

 _Lucidly, I hear footsteps approach. Before I can turn the other way, I feel a shoe on my face, roughly turning my face about._

" _Tsk, Tsk. Look at you now, Mudblood. No better than the dirt on my floor."_

 _I want to scream 'go to hell' but my throat won't function._

" _Such pity. Such wastefully pity." I haven't the slightest what he's on about and I barely care; my entire body's on fire. I feel as if I'm crying blood._

 _My eyes fall from him, and I know this makes him mad for he brings his foot down on my stomach. I curl over in new waves of pain, gurgling my pain for I cannot scream anymore._

" _Don't look away from me, Bitch. I'm your superior." I would scoff if I could. The only thing he is greater than me in is stupidity._

 _He kneels on said dirty floor and grabs my face in his grasp. He pinches me hard, but I hardly feel it. I'm smarting still from his shoe in my gut._

" _How are you such a waste?" He sounds almost like a confused child. He is truly mad. "So dirty your blood is, yet you can withstand Bella's curses and remain sane." He looks at me as in a stupor. "You are sane, yes, Mudblood?"_

"… _to hell," is all I'm able to spit._

 _He laughs as if in some grand comedy. "Yes, still sane." He almost lovingly caresses my face. Copious amounts of disgust course through my body at both his insanity and assaults he makes on me. "And didn't you know, darling Mudblood –" he leans in closer and whispers hotly in my ear, "– this is your hell."_

 _I find some hidden strength and try to pull from him, try to get the hell away from him, get to Harry, and get the fuck out of this crazy hellhole I've fallen into._

 _But he pulls me back towards him. I seem to have no strength left to give. I'm done. I feel all but defeated. Too many Cruciatus' have racked my body._

 _Just as he leans back in to say something, to sicken me further with his vile comments, many things to seem to happen at once, Bellatrix, Draco, Narcissa return yelling about something happening, Harry comes barging into the room with Dobby at his side - holding a wand no less._

 _I start to black out, my body having sustained too much trauma._

 _Darkness is my quiet friend._

.

I pulled from my ominous thoughts and back to the present. Fawkes was trilling sadly at my side, the Room of Requirement was like a cold box (I could all but see my breath coming out in steamy puffs) and before me stood an apparition of Lucius Malfoy.

This must have been Horcrux-Lucius. He was even more grotesque than Lucius Malfoy in person; not that I ever wanted to be near any version of him.

His greyish blond hair was matted about his head, translucent bruises coloured his face, his clothes were torn. He looked more like a pauper than the aristocratic head of Malfoy house. The most frightening thing about him was his crazed eyes. If possible they would spin in their phantom sockets.

His mad eyes gleamed something terrible, as if promising me retribution for sins past.

Hastily, I backed away, crab-crawling backward. My stomach was rolling in disgust and any moment, my non-existent supper would make a reappearance. I could only imagine what a frightened bunny I looked to the mad Horcrux-Lucius. As if reading my thoughts, he licked his phantom lips, silver drool sliding messily down his chin.

"Mudblood."

I shook my head in denial, trying to wake myself up.

He cackled hysterically.

Seriously he was beyond fucked in the head. Horcrux or no Horcrux.

"My, my, my, Mudblood," he crooned, his hand waving about as if conducting an orchestra.

"You're not real, YOU bloody bastard!" I scream, never wanting to be near him, never wanting to back inside Malfoy Manor.

"Oh silly Mudblood, but I am."

"No!" I counter

"Yes, Hermione." I cringe at his familiarity with my given name. He should never softly utter my first name, as if he is caressing the softest of furs.

"I've seen into your heart. I've seen into your mind."

Again, I shake my head in denial. I don't understand this situation. How I've gotten to this time and in such similar circumstances as my past (present?). I'm terribly confused.

"Little Hermione Granger … the strange little girl that odd things happen around," Horcrux-Lucius started to chant again, as if playfully singing insults at me. "Hermione Granger … know-it-all extraordinaire with a nose always stuck in a book. Hermione Granger … ugly little duckling that no likes and can stand to be around. Hermione Granger … forever in love with Ron Weasley, whom he secretly HATES, BELITTLES, always argues with."

"Shut up," I muttered, trying to cover my ears from the constant vitriol. Traitors tears leaked from my eyes.

"Know-it-all Granger, Mudblood Granger, Buck-tooth Granger, stuck-up-BITCH Granger, Not-good-for-anything-but-homework Granger, ugly Granger, virgin Granger, virgin Granger, VIRGIN MUDBLOOD GRANGER…"

"Shut it, Shut it, fucking SHUT IT!" Tears fell at an alarming pace as my heart beat something erratic in my chest. I was at my wits-end with this situation. A little more and I could feel myself falling forever, being one of those broken, forgotten things in the Room of Requirement.

I pulled hard at my hair, wanting to wake myself up, wanting to ground myself with real pain, wanting to pull myself out of this messed-up situation.

"Remember Malfoy Manor, Mudblood?"

As if reading my mind, Horcrux-Lucius started to pull at the thread that would unravel me. I didn't want to go back to that horror. It was one of my darkest moments, never to be repeated.

Repeated.

REPEATED.

"There you lay so damaged at my feet, yet still trying to be a lioness of House Gryffindor. Her paws had been broken, her claws removed, and her fur all but peeled from her bones." The Horcrux licked his lips, trying to catch the spittle flying about. His mad gleaming eyes shining all too brightly.

"And when my pureblood skin touched your filthy skin … Magic."

I couldn't take anymore. I was at a breaking point. I had to either fall to the madness, where I would be forever safe from the Horcrux's taint, spinning circles forever in my head ... or I had to end this.

I had to end this.

It was too much.

I needed something to end the madness.

Something to end the madness.

End the madness.

And as if by happenstance, by chance, by magic, there was something to end the madness.

Sweet, soul-soothing trilling filled me.

Looking beyond the blurred reality that my tears created in my eyes, I saw Fawkes flying towards me. He was a red, gold beautiful Merlin-sent relief to my defeated soul.

Instinctively, I raised my hand and caught the fang he dropped.

His reassuring present was all I needed.

As if sensing demise, the Horcrux stared to panic, started to claw and slash at the air. Yet, no matter how much it fought, it couldn't touch me. For it was an apparition, a swirl of coloured air.

"You bitch, you good-for-nothing-but-shit Mudblood. You'll never amount to anything. Because, because, BECAUSE you'll know no matter how much you study, fight, answer silly little questions, you were never meant to be a witch. You were never anything but a fake, a stain on Wizardry. You don't belong. You'll never BELONG!"

I crawled over to the spewing Horcrux, knowing that I did belong. It could spew all the hatred and venom it liked, but I knew I BELONGED.

I BELONGED.

"Rot in Hell, Voldemort!"

Its eyes turned red.

I raised my hand with the fang gripped tightly in my fingers.

"Rot in hell, Lucius Malfoy!"

Its screams all but torn swatches of skin from my bones.

"And no matter how much you try and bury the truth, you'll always be part MUDBLOOD, Tom Riddle!"

Razor sharp claws reach out towards me as unearthly screams thrash my face, blowing my hair and clothes back from the whirling wind whipping about the room.

Fawkes flew in front of me, all but clawing out the eyes of apparition Lucius/Voldemort, trilling his righteous anger out loudly.

(THE END.)

With all the might I had in me, with all the anger I had in me, with all the fear I had in me, with all the hatred I had in me, with all the love I had for the fallen in me, I stabbed the fuck out of the diadem.

Shrieks turned to gurgled whispers.

Dark lights turned to muted golds.

Horcrux Lucius/Voldemort turned to non-formed swirls of wisps.

And the diadem bled out blackness.

The fang fell listlessly from my fingers and disappeared into the stone floor of the Room of Requirement.

.

Fawkes landed gently on my bent knees. They creaked something terrible, but I didn't care. Fawkes, with all his battle glory, was able to use me as furniture anytime.

His dark, mysterious eyes stared deeply into mine. I would never understand the wonders of his depths, but I could read the affection he held for me, feel the bond we shared.

"Brilliant boy." I praised reverently, in awe of this amazing magical creature. "So very brave." I gently stroked his soft plumage. It radiated something terribly hot. "Thank you."

He leaned forward had affectionately rubbed his warm face against mine. His soft trills were a balm stronger than a calming draught.

.

How long we stayed in that room, I have no idea. How Fawkes got the Basilisk fang, I have no idea.

But I knew we were one Horcrux down, I knew my mission had started off with a resounding bang, and I knew ' _ **HELP will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it**_.'

.

I stood up, wiped the snot and tears from my face, shook out the stiffness from my body, and with as much dignity as possible, I raised my wand.

Gladly and with little guilt, I turned my wand on the blackened diadem, "Reducto."

With my faith in myself and my rightful place in the Wizarding world, with my worthiness wrapped tightly about me like a shroud, and Fawkes trilling calming in my ear, I walked from the Room of Requirement.

The light of a new dawn sleepily broke through the stained glass windows of Hogwarts.

Hogwarts seemed to exhale.

.

.

* * *

 **AN** : There you have it, the fighting glorious start to Hermione's journey. So … I'm not the best at writing action sequences, but hopefully it wasn't too bad.

This chapter, as always is dedicated to those who reviewed, followed. THANK YOU.

Remember this will be a longish story, and we've just begun. More, More, More to come.

Happy New Years, loves.


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